


Taking Steps

by tyrellis



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Class Differences, Classism, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Racism, will add chars/ships as fic continues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2369615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrellis/pseuds/tyrellis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At midnight, on the day you turn seventeen, you receive a name inked onto your body: this person, wherever they are and whoever they may be, is to be your soulmate, your true love.</p>
<p>Jean's parents don't like him and don't like each other; Eren's father split and left his mother to single-handedly raise two children under one roof. Since they were children, they've had a natural rivalry based on mindless hatred - Jean's rich and snobby and makes mean comments about Eren's clothes, and Eren's rude and dirty and always laughs when Jean gets a new phone. The only person to ever really care about Jean was Marco; Eren's been predisposed towards Armin ever since Eren saw him hold his own against some idiot bullies.</p>
<p>Yet on their seventeenth birthdays, Jean doesn't get Marco, and Eren doesn't get Armin: instead, they get each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On Turning Seventeen

**Author's Note:**

> heheee another au bc canonverse is sad. the first fic idea i ever had for erejean!! posting a wee snippet to see if anyone likes it/thinks i should continue (i have 21k words rn but should i like go hard is what i'm asking) so er please drop a line so i can figure that out haha.
> 
> yeah soulmates au bc what better than forcing two ppl who hate each other into a relationship where they're expected to fall in love and have a dandy courtship etc etc. vaguely inspired by that one tumblr post which is like 'yeah i love soulmates au's but none of that fluffy shit what about soulmates not knowing what to do or knowing how to navigate a relationship and everything being awful' and i was like....yES. so. here's a little thing to ponder, i suppose.
> 
> class differences/various oppressive attitudes will be shown gradually thru various characters (like there's a main few it's not everyone). it doesn't show up so much here. a warning! jean is absolutely classist and probably pretty racist as well! it is absolutely a result of how he has been brought up and the world he has lived in! it will be dealt with properly in this fic should i really continue it!
> 
> and lastly, i live in scotland, obviously the cities, education system, uni system all follow the scottish systems. pls use google, if u want to u can ask me anything u want about any of those systems, slang, how certain things work etc. i'm aware that some ppl might not have any idea what i'm on about, so i apologise for that!
> 
> without further ado, welcome to the train wreck. pls comment, even if it's to tell me it's shit and to try harder (but like be sort of nice if u can) <3

"Jaeger."

"Kirschtein."

On the last day of the Spring term, Eren finds himself ending the school day by glaring at his eternal rival as they cross outside the school building. Eren's walking side by side with Armin and Mikasa, about to leave the premises so he and Mikasa can catch the bus and Armin can cycle to his flat. It's a pretty decent day, for once - the sun is shining, and it's the perfect balance of not-too-hot and not-too-cold. The few clouds in the sky show no hint of rain, and the light breeze feels soothing against his tan skin. It's a half-day, so Eren's only gone through double English and a single of Physics, thank _God_  because Physics is pain and confusion and sitting beside Armin doesn't help. Well, it does, but being constantly corrected is also painfully embarrassing.

It's been a good day. Mikasa listened happily to his ranting about the stupidity of reading _Romeo and Juliet_  romantically while they were revising, and in Physics they convinced the teacher, a calm but funny guy called Mr Jinn, to let them watch _Bill Nye the Science Guy_ , due to both the witty puns and fascinating science. Also, the kids they brought on the show were ridiculous, and hilarious to watch. They'd been let out of English early, so he'd managed to snag a panini from the stand before the usual rush, and he'd sat outside with Armin and Mikasa for a good twenty minutes enjoying the rare sunshine before heading back indoors.

The best thing about this day, though, is that it's the one before his seventeenth birthday, two days before April.

In this weather, the blazer he's forced to wear is stifling, and he threw it over his bag the second he stepped outside. His top button's undone and his tie is loose, the knot hanging in the middle of his chest. The hem of his trousers are scuffed, and one of his shoes has a hole in the button. Even his messenger bag is old and scruffy, and one of the zips is broke so he always has to zip from right to left. Jean Kirschtein is looking at him with disdain, as usual - his lips are pulled into a sneer, and he narrows his eyes as he takes in Eren's messy appearance.

Jean, in contrast, has his tie done nice and proper in some fancy knot only the teachers use. His blazer fits him perfectly, and his trousers are neat, still maintaining the stiff crease down the centre of each leg. His shoes are polished and his backpack is some bullshit designer brand that's strapped on both shoulders. He drips money, even without one of his various high-tech smartphones out, waiting for some Bentley or whatever to pick his arse up. The only unconventional thing is his hair - dirty blonde on top, with a dark undercut that wouldn't suit anyone else.

Doesn't stop Eren teasing him about it mercilessly, though.

"Hey, Jaeger, remind me how you got in at this school when you look like you just came out of Shinganshina's asshole?" Jean asks him, his voice smarmy and conceited as he smirks. God, he's such a _tosser_. Eren wants to punch him til he can't walk.

"Hey, Kirschtein, remind me how you go _anywhere_  with a horseface like that?" he replies, and Armin just sighs next to him. Mikasa's on high alert, as usual.

Jean's smirk falls, and his eyebrows furrow in anger. "Shut the hell up, Jaeger, you looked in the mirror?" One of his few friends and the nicest guy in their year, Marco, shakes his head. Eren doesn't know how the hell they became friends, only that Marco lessens Jean's dislikeability marginally.

"I did, actually, and thanked God I didn't look like you," he spits back, but it only makes Jean rear forward, his fury plain in his scowl and curled fists.

"Piss off, Jaeger," because Jean's not intelligent enough for a better comeback, and Eren tells him as much, and he can see that Jean's about to try and duff him up in the way he springs forward a step and Mikasa shifts next to him.

Marco, being the blessed angel he is, grabs Jean's arm and hauls him back, saying, "C'mon, Jean, not today - look, your car's right over there, yeah?"

Eren scoffs as he walks away, leaving one last glare at Jean before heading up the drive.

"Really, Eren?"

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"You can't lay off one day?"

"He started it!"

Armin sighs, knowing that with this his argument will hold no ground with Eren. "Yeah, okay. I know."

Mikasa looks disapprovingly at him for a moment, but says nothing, and in seconds the atmosphere shifts and Armin asks about his birthday.

Eren shrugs. "It's either you or someone I don't know, so I ain't bothered," is his honest response. He knows people who have waited their whole life for this day - their seventeenth birthday, the day they receive the name of their soulmate. Or, their soulmate's name is written on some body part and then everyone goes on a mad hunt to find them. Eren couldn't care less. He decided soulmates weren't worth the trouble when his dad - supposedly his mum's soulmate - walked out on them when he was eleven. Thinking about it boils the blood in his veins, in ways he knows all too well aren't healthy for him, so he moves on quickly.

Eren doesn't quite see the appeal of 'soulmates' - so many shows about cute people searching for theirs, too many reality shows that get paid too much to find the 'perfect person' of some desperate single. Eren's survived sixteen years without a soulmate - there's no reason to need one now. He has his mum, who goes out and works hard and despite all the bills is _still_  able to send them to a school like this, and Mikasa, who goes to karate with him and protects him even if he doesn't want it, and Armin, who has the combined intelligence of all four of them and uses words to fight instead of fists. Eren can't see himself without either of his two closest friends with him forever - he wouldn't be surprised by either, or both, their names showing up for him.

He knows it won't be Mikasa, though. Much as he wouldn't mind her with him for life, she got her name back in February, and her soulmate got Mikasa in March. Annie Leonhardt is short, blonde, and utterly terrifying. Eren doesn't remember why he was so shocked she was Mikasa's soulmate, considering they both look unemotional and too badass to mess with. They hadn't really been friends before, so they'd spent more and more time together, becoming friends before even touching the whole soulmate thing. All Eren knows now is that Annie sometimes shows up to their karate class, and is the left defence to Mikasa's left midfield in hockey. Apparently they go to yoga together. He sees them in their cramped living room, sometimes, in their t-shirts and underwear, watching Game of Thrones or Mock the Week with similarly blank faces as they share hot chocolate. They smile at each other, sometimes, and kiss regardless of who's watching or who disapproves.

Eren aims for a romance like that one, if he ever cares enough.

His mum's excited, he knows, hoping for a relationship that doesn't end up like hers, excited to see her boy find someone who can always make him happy, or at least handle him when his anger issues become apparent. He hopes he does find them, if only for her sake. He owes her so much, and so much of his life has improved thanks to her and the hard work she puts in for him. He wants to make her happy. He wants to make her proud.

That evening he's shooed out the kitchen when he comes back from his shift at the cutesy cafe down the road, and has to sulk in his room as waves of baked dough and sugary icing waft into his room. He ends up calling Armin in distraction, and has a good chat as Armin talks him through the documentary on the Egyptians he's watching. If he shuts his eyes and positions himself just right, he can imagine he's in Armin's sitting room, too, watching archaeologists decipher the origins of specific artefacts and hear the presenter's voice explain their creation and durability. It's comforting, and soothing, and these are things Eren often lacks.

By the time the documentary is done and Armin is praising the Discovery History channel for having a show on colonialism in Europe next, Eren's forgotten about the soulmates ordeal, and sleeps peacefully.

-

For a time. Eren sleeps peacefully _for a time_. At first, it doesn't quite register - his vision is blurry due to the lights he didn't turn out, and the side of his face aches since he's been sleeping on his phone for God knows how long. He sits himself up, shaking his head, and checks the time - midnight.

It's his birthday.

Eren is still a little confused, and it's only a searing sensation on his left arm - incidentally, the one he almost lost in a car crash that totalled their car and which Eren partially blames for his father's disappearance - that alerts him to the fact that, _Oh yeah, seventeen. Soulmate day._

He's a little hesitant at first, his heart thumping in his chest. If it isn't Armin, it's unlikely to be someone he knows - who else has he established such a strong connection with? It has to be Armin, considering the boy lulled him to sleep only hours ago.

_Armin. Right. Let's do it._

And so Eren leaps up and grabs the tiny mirror he has laying on his desk, glad he's wearing a t-shirt so he can see the writing. It's in a ring around his bicep, and it says...

"No. No fuckin' way. No _fucking_  way. Bullshit. This is bullshit! This is-"

Apparently Eren's raised his voice too much. "Eren?" Mikasa asks, hurrying in and assessing the room for possible threats. "What's wrong, Eren?"

"I got my soulmate's name." He isn't holding the mirror anymore; instead, he cups his hand around the visible parts of the name.

"...Eren?"

He glares at the floor, wistful for the hope he'd felt only seconds ago. If it had just been Armin...but it's not.

He exhales, heavily. His heart, which had been racing before, is thudding slowly, just barely clinging on.

"Kirschtein," he finally replies, not meeting Mikasa's gaze. "Jean Kirschtein."

For a moment, she does nothing - then she moves, ever quietly, forward, covers his hand with her own warm palm and, interlacing their fingers, removes it so the name can be seen.

It's in some girly handwriting, all elegance and flowing ink that's never suited Eren. Mikasa traces the name, now, and out the corner of his eye he sees the disbelief in her eyes, no matter how hard she tries to seem unresponsive.

"I'm sorry, Eren," she says sincerely, withdrawing her hand from his arm but clutching his hand with her other. "Have you called Armin?"

He bites his lip, shakes his head.

"He'll tell you what to do," she says, her faith in Armin seeping easily into her voice. Armin's the one that fixes everything, that makes the plans to get them out of trouble and analyses all the facts and all the bullshit when Eren's dragged to the Rector to discuss a fight he got into. He also does the Jaeger-Ackerman accounts for them. It's quite impressive.

Nonetheless, Eren drops back onto his bed and dials Armin, pressing his phone into the same indents it had left when he'd been sleeping. Armin picks up on the fifth ring, just as Eren is about to hang up and leave it for daylight hours.

Armin's yawning, but still manages a bewildered, "Eren?"

"Jean Kirschtein." God, just saying the name makes him scowl and scrunch his nose up in distaste. The name itself reeks money and pretension - Eren's never asked, but it's all foreign, all European and confusion on how to say it.

Not that Eren can talk, considering he's half-German and half-Turkish, but. Who has a name like Kirschtein? Or Jean? Or both, like, together?

Arseholes. Rich, priviledged, douchey arseholes. One of whom is destined to be Eren's soulmate.

"What about him?" Armin sounds sleepy, it makes sense he wouldn't figure it out.  
  
"He's my... He's my soulmate." He tries not to gag a little. He cannot ultimately put into words how much he truly _hates_  Jean, for being so careless about money when so many need it, for being cocky and rude and loud, for always trying to fight even though he'll always lose.

He may be good at track and field, but Eren's been doing karate since he was four years-old. He knows his way around a fight. And after _so_  many fights with Jean, he knows his way pretty well round him, too.

The silence on the other end is stifling. Armin's thinking, he knows, but Eren's impatient and an ordeal as awful as _this_  demands immediate attention and/or consoling.

"Alright," Armin says in a level voice after a moment. "Well, your problem with Jean is that you hate him, right?"

"Naw, he's a condescending, stuck-up prick with too much money," Eren corrects him.

"...Okay. Same thing. So, why don't you, instead of trying to kill him every time you see him, talk to him...like a normal human being?"

"It's hard to talk like a normal human being to someone who looks like a horse, Armin."

"Jesus, Eren, I'm trying to help you, but if you're not going to make an effort here I won't bother." That's Armin's serious tone. Eren better get a grip, clearly.

"A'right, a'right. How d' I dae that?"

"...You really don't know how to talk like a normal person?"

"Not to him."

A heavy sigh in his ear.

" _Look_ , I can...try. If he tries t' be less of an arsehole."

"Well, you have two weeks before you see him again. Why don't we all go back to bed and we can talk about this when we're not sleep-deprived, okay?"

Armin is so fucking sensible. "Aye, a'right. Night, Arms."

"Goodnight Eren. Tell Mikasa sweet dreams."

"A'right. Bye." He hangs up, and turns to Mikasa, who's been watching the whole time with one eyebrow slightly raised. "Talk about it in the morning. Armin says sweet dreams."

She nods. "Goodnight, Eren." She gives him a soft peck on his cheek, and leaves him alone to his thoughts.

Which evolve around Jean, and Jean being his soulmate, and _actually talking_  to Jean and... Actually, Eren's going to ignore all his thoughts and go straight to sleep.

Surprisingly, it's not that hard to do.

-

An hour before midnight, Jean is blasting pop punk playlists from his laptop and trying repeatedly to draw some that _isn't_  Mikasa, as lovely as her visage is. He glances at his clock, then watch, then laptop, and then his iPhone for the time - eleven p.m.. An hour left. He's got an hour left, that's all, then he can relax and get back into watching Wife Swap or Super Nanny. They calm him down, and give him a plethora of tips in case he ever has problem children or is suddenly swapped with a stranger across the country for a reality tv show. He just needs to get one drawing of, like, fucking _scenery_  or a potted plant or _something_ , then it'll hopefully be midnight, then April seventh, and he can discover that his soulmate is Marco. Then he can call him up, tell him the lucky news, and chill out before going to bed. Since it's the middle of the holidays he's done nothing but eat, sleep, rave by himself and his laptop and sometimes Marco, and repeat. He's done a shit ton of revision for his Highers, because otherwise he _knows_  they'll kick him and his future and his university application in the arse, but asides from that...just chores, really. Doing shit for his parents, when they remember him. He saw a movie with Connie and Sasha and Marco, which had been nice, but had gone straight back to revising English because that shit is _hard_. He did another six hours of revision today, before crashing on his couch for awhile to have dinner and watch some Breaking Bad, but now it's time to focus.

What do you draw when you can't draw the most attractive specimen on the earth? He already drew Marco today as well, so he's out. Mikasa hangs out with pretty people, though, he could draw those...? Well, he could draw Armin, because he's nice and friendly and helps Jean out in Chemistry, God bless. He absolutely could not, would not, and _should_  not draw Eren _fucking_  Jaeger because not only would it be impossible to make him at all attractive (or capture the exact hue of his bright turquoise eyes), but it's against all of Jean's values to do so. If he has _any_  integrity whatsoever, he won't do it. And he isn't going to. He knows better than to draw something as incriminating as that, even if Eren does have annoyingly nice eyes.

Not that it matters. He's a huge fucking dick who always gets pissy at Jean for bullshit reasons, he's so fucking self-righteous and self-important, and he spits on the ground sometimes. It's so fucking disgusting. The fact that he has nice eyes and a strong jawline and decent muscles is...not important. At all. Not relevant to possibility of drawing him in any way... After all, Jean's not going to draw him.

He's going to draw his window. He hasn't closed the curtains, mostly because he's too lazy to get up and shut them, and the sun's down, but he lives on a hill and has a decent view of the sprawling metropolis that is Rose. Well, it has a different name - something long with a lot of confusing syllables that Jean doesn't care to learn - but everyone cuts it down to Rose, so. Jean lives in the nicest bit of it, the hilltop neighbourhood called Trost. You know a place is nice when every house is detached. His garden is pretty expansive, too, with a little pond and a bit of forestry in the far right corner. Their gardener takes care of the plants, keeps it looking spruce. Jean's living room, though, faces the front, and if he were to peer directly down he'd see their pretty front lawns and their numerous shiny cars and then the drop of the hill, the roads leading back to the main city lined with street lamps, then the clustering of lights indicating the main city. It's a nice view.

He starts by sketching the window. The city is so huge and chaotic, he better keep it compact, keep it locked in.

Minutes pass in this way. He finds himself getting fairly involved in this, pausing only to check the time and to drink coffee. He's detailing the web of street lamps beneath Trost when his phone rings suddenly, and the wrist of his drawing hand freezes in pain. He instantly drops the pencil and grabs his phone with his free hand, shutting up his alarm for twelve a.m.. Seventh of April.

Jean is seventeen, and he has a soulmate. If it's not Marco - probably the only guy who could put up with Jean for life - he's so fucked. He brings his right arm closer to him - black letters are now encircling his wrist. They're jagged, a little messy, almost childish, and they say-

" _What?!_ "

_What. The. Fuck._  He keeps staring. _This can't be real._  He should probably call someone. _This isn't happening to me._  In fact, he should probably talk to his parents.

... _Fuck this._

And without putting any of his things away, Jean stomps into his bedroom, slams the door shut, turns out the lights, and slumps into bed. Luckily, sleep is quick to overtake him.

-

Jean sleeps fairly peacefully, only to be awoken by _Devil In Disguise_  crooning cheerily from one of his bullshit phones. Phones were the bearers of all bad news to Jean, lately. Best to avoid them.

He turns his head. The song doesn't stop. He shuts his eyes. It keeps going.

Jean cracks, because he's weak and there's only so many times he can take, _Looks like an angel_ , and goes to pick up his phone - only to blanche at the sight of his newly decorated wrist. How the hell is he going to hide _this_?

" _Looks like an angel, she looks like an-_ "

"Oh, for the love of-" Jean scrambles up, grabs his phone, and hits the answer button harder than perhaps necessary.

"Hey, Jean!" Marco chirps through the phone. "You took your time today."

Jean yawns. "What time's it?"

"It's half eleven, babes. And I stayed up till one a.m. waiting for you to call me, you know."

Jean glares down at his wrist. His traitorous wrist. He always knew soulmates were bullshit - look at his parents, after all - but he didn't think they got _this_  low. Low enough to monumentally fuck up his life, and all his expectations for the future.

"Yeah, uh, things didn't go exactly as...hoped." The frustration and disappointment are evident in his voice.

"Jean?" is all Marco says, because he is a blessed and patient soul, and knows all the right ways to get Jean to speak his (many) woes. _How_  aren't they soulmates? This is bullshit.

"I, uh... I mean, I didn't... I got... Oh, God, Marco, it's awful. I'm going to die."

"Mate, I don't think you're going to die."

"I might."

" _Jean._ "

He sighs dismally, casting his eyes again to his name. "I got... Christ, Marco, I got...bloody _Jaeger_. Eren Jaeger."

There's absolute silence. It burns in Jean's ears, and quite noticeably in his cheeks. He's glad he's on his own.

He's far _more_  appreciative of this fact when Marco starts cackling in his ear and all the blood Jean has ever possessed in his body rushes to his face.

"Sh-shut up, Marco! You're supposed to be my mate! Stop laughing!"

"Oh my... Only you Jean, Christ." Marco's still giggling in his ear like a cat that got all the fucking cream. All of it. Every last fucking drop. "That's quality, Jean, I'm sorry."

" _Quality_? I'm stuck with this guy for life, I'll go mental!"

"Nah you won't," he replies easily. "If you're soulmates, you're meant to be. You'll work out all your differences and realise what you like about each other and fall in love."

His optimism is so strong that Jean can practically see the rainbows surrounding the last phrase. "Shut the hell up, Marco. You and your soulmates crap."

Marco scoffs. "You know, Jean, if you weren't always having a go at Eren you could actually be friends. I sit next to him in Physics, he's actually pretty intelligent, and funny, too."

Jean huffs in response. "Yeah, well I sit three desks away from him in Moddies, and he _never shuts up_. It's the most fucking annoying thing ever."

"Aah, the beginnings of true love."

"I fucking hate you too, Marco."

He hangs up.

Before he even drops the phone back to the depths of hell it clearly came from, it rings again.

"Fucking hell, Marco, I'm not in the mood."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, Jean, I swear. Look. Let's get together before school starts again to talk about this, yeah? For now, I don't know... Just, try not to provoke him. Maybe you can make lists of his pros and cons-"

"Really."

"-or maybe not! Nothing really needs to happen till next Monday, so. It'll all kick off then, I guess."

"That's super encouraging, Marco."

"No, just-" Marco sighs again. "Try not to worry about it. We'll talk about it properly soon, and you and Eren can talk about it in school. It's not like you really need to act on anything now, anyway - we've only got a fortnight at school then exam leave, and then everyone'll be too busy dealing with being in sixth year to be romantic."

"I don't know, Marco... I guess I won't have to talk to him properly till June, but... _Ugh_ , whatever. When should you come over?"

"When are _you_  going to tell your parents?"

"I... Soon. Like, now. Right now, Marco."

"Uh huh."

"Promise."

"Right. I'll text you later, I'll come round some time next weekend, whenever we're not revising. Yeah?"

"Yeah, alright. Later, mate."

"Bye, babe."

After silencing his phone in every way possible, he dumps it back onto his bedside cabinet and rolls onto his back. It's Sunday, so his parents should be around somewhere.

_Eren Jaeger_ , curled inelegantly round his wrist. Of fucking course Jean, with all his shitty characteristics and intolerable personality, ends up soulmates with the guy who hates him. That's just his luck. It's probably a testament to how disliked Jean is that the person most compatable with him is a guy who hates his guts.

In fact, they're probably supposed to bond over how much they hate him. Super.

He heaves himself from his bed after a few minutes of wallowing in self-pity, dragging himself to his bathroom to change and shower. The hot water and soft sensation of washing himself eases his worries for a time, as he focuses on this single task. No matter how much he cleans himself, however, he knows he can't erase the one mark on him that he wishes he could rid of himself forever. There it stays, no matter how often he scrubs with his green loofa, staining his skin, tainting him.

Well, maybe he's being a little melodramatic. That's allowed, though, considering he's apparently soulmates with his enemy. God, when Eren finds out... In fact, Eren _has_  found out. He remembers Armin talking about the end of March with excitement, mentioning Eren's birthday somewhere along the way. It'd be nice if he had some God damn warning, frankly.

...Okay, he'd have laughed in Eren's face if he was told they were soulmates, but. Still. At least he'd have known it was definitely a possibility, instead of having a shock like that. He just...doesn't feel very secure in this new situation. What's he supposed to do, huh? Wait it out, like Marco says? Fall in love with the guy eventually? It's impossible. Eren's fucking impossible.

Jean feels he should at least alert Eren that he is now aware of their whole...soulmates thing. He doesn't want to incite conversation, he just wants to let it be known that he knows and clarify that Eren knows and that hopefully no one else knows.

Oh, God, when the rest of his school mates find out about this... Jean is screwed to all hells.

Once changed, he decides to compose a simple text to Eren. One time Armin called Eren from Jean's phone, so he has the number saved in case Jean ever felt the need to play some kind of hilarious prank on Eren, or if Armin or Mikasa sustained a grievous injury in Jean's presence. You'd call Eren before you called the hospital, no matter how hurt they were. That's how close their relationship is. That, apparently, is what Jean should be aspiring to.

No one's ever felt like that towards him in his life, and he doubts it'll start now.

to dickface: _can we not talk abt this_

See? An acknowledgement of the problem without even _attempting_  to lead to further conversation. Marco would be so disappointed.

from dickface: _ye talk @ schl_

to dickface: _can't believe this bs_

from dickface: _neither. cnt blieve am stuck w/ a horseface_

to dickface: _i fuckin hate u so much how is this happening_

from dickface: _idk. tryin not 2 think abt it_

to dickface: _same. c u at school_

from dickface: _ugh_

So maybe there was a bit more conversation that Jean anticipated. At least they haven't really changed their tone towards each other. The day Eren stops acting like a tool towards Jean all the time will be the day the flames of hell erupt from the ground to overtake the earth in satanic glory and, well. Jean doesn't really want that to happen. Well, maybe. First of all he needs to see if being with Eren is bearable even just for the sex. He'll deal with Eren if sex is good. If not...he'll welcome those fiery pits.

He's tempted to stay upstairs and make himself some breakfast when another text comes through.

from freckled jesus B): _Jean go talk to ur parents !! xx_

to freckled jesus B): _jfc how do u know these things x_

from freckled jesus B): _do it b xx_

"Alright," he mutters to himself, trying not to ponder the consequences of refusing Marco. For such a sweet, kind guy, Marco can be pretty terrifying when he's mad, and Jean knows this firsthand from the time he once ignored Marco's thoughtful advice. Leaving his bedroom, he eyes his notepad and pencils left out from last night, and feels the same horror and shock he felt then wash over him as he takes in the scattered pencils and the view of late night Rose, half-drawn in scribbles. _Eren Jaeger_ , his soulmate. How bizarre. How ridiculous.

How...is he going to tell his parents? Even they know the Jaegers, if only because the father walked out despite the mother being his soulmate, and therefore leaving the family in ridiculous debt and toeing the poverty line. His mother often ponders how any of the Jaegers got into Jean's school, oftens scorns the single mother and her poor past relationship, despite being one of the worst examples of a soulmate herself. Jean's soulmate being a guy like Jaeger... It's like the _entire universe_  is conspiring against him. At this rate, his parents will end up disowning him by the new year.

He goes downstairs nonetheless. The lights are out on the second floor, so he keeps going down, wandering through a few rooms before finding them both in the kitchen. His dad is at the stove, eggs scrambling before him, whilst his mother is going through her planner at the kitchen table, sipping distractedly from a steaming coffee. She sits ramrod straight, glasses perched on the bridge of her long, straight nose, her blonde hair tied back in an elegant top knot. She looks the picture of Jean.

He hates this about his mother more than anything.

They say nothing to him as he sits at the table, opposite his mother, toying with his phone to distract himself. Marco's text is on the screen, and Jean can hear him chiding at him to get a move on. Jean doesn't know why he's so nervous - he's not the poor one here, or the one whose dad pissed off.

He starts hesitantly, placing his phone on the table, locking it then unlocking it in a few swipes, turning through pages of apps, staring at Marco's text.

Staring at Eren's, and finding no security or warmth or encouragement there.

Locking his phone, clenching his fingers together, and looking up to his mother. He ignores the stains on his right wrist. His parents don't even see them.

"Mum," he says, and curses himself for his weak voice. "Mum," he tries again, this time with his usual bluff and arrogance. She doesn't even look up. Bravely, he carries on: "So last night, I was drawing to pass time, except then I felt this strange pain on my wrist and-"

"Hold on a second," his mother interrupts thoughtlessly, her phone buzzing against the table. She answers her call and pushes away from the table, leaving the room just as his father comes forward with two plates of scrambled eggs and toast.

His father sits at the head of the table, and opens the newspaper, spreading it across the surface before he touches his food. He can hear his mother's business voice through the half-open door.

Jean tries again. "Dad, did you hear? Last night, I-"

"Jean," his father says coolly, not even raising his eyes, "can't you see I'm trying to read?"

Familiar frustration boils in Jean's gut. For now, all he can feel is the anger spreading in his veins, and he grits his teeth. "Dad, it's important," he persists, fingers clenched so tight he can feel his nails digging into the soft flesh of his palms. "Dad, I turned seventeen today, I got my-"

"You turned seventeen today?" his father echoes, glancing up for a second. "Isn't your birthday..."

There's silence where his mother's voice was before, the door opening as she reappears and takes her place at the second plate of eggs. "Whose birthday?" she asks, her voice dull as she checks her phone.

"Jean's, apparently."

She reaches into her bag, pulls out her purse, then takes out a couple of hundred pound notes. "Will this do?" she asks as she hands them over, her voice as uninterested as ever.

Feeling sick, Jean takes them. Why is he surprised? This happened last year, and the year before that, and the year before that. They never remember, and always push money at him. Jean should be hardened to it, should know not to expect anything from his parents; but he sees Marco with his family and Sasha and Connie with each others' and he yearns for what they have. It burns hotter than fury, burns till the fire's out and he's left cold and hollow, wishing. Whatever anger he felt before has vanished; in its place, sadness seeps into his bones, the initial hurt registering and multiplying, infecting every individual cell till it's all he can feel. He's a crier when he's angry, the kind of angry from being wrongfully ignored or blamed unjustly for things he didn't do. Anger for being forgotten.

_Every time_ , but still it hurts.

"Well?" his mother demands, tucking away her purse and rummaging through her bag for something else.

"Sure," Jean replies, and knows the emptiness echoing from his voice will go unnoticed, as will his retreat from the room, and back up the two sets of stairs he just descended.

The tears fall on the second staircase. He indulges them in his study, where he can stare past his desk and out to their back gardens, and the forest that spreads across the hills that continue to rise behind Trost. Head in hands, he lets the tears fall, traitorous of his stupid emotions as they are. He wishes he was't like this, wishes he could develop the thick skin that's necessary with living with loveless parents like these, but every snub is another scar lodging itself into his skin and it _hurts_.

In his pocket, his phone vibrates, and with blurry vision he digs it out and sees another text from Marco. Not surprising, since he's the only person who actually likes Jean enough to communicate wilfully with him.

from freckled jesus B): _well? xx_

Marco doesn't quite know the situation. He knows Jean's parents don't get on as well as they're supposedly fated to, and that's one of the reasons why Jean's so cynical about soulmates, but he's never become aware of how little they care about Jean, and how much it gets to Jean in return. Jean never told him, and avoided going to his own house with Marco as much as possible.

to freckled jesus B): _already left for work when i got downstairs :/ tell them tonight though x_

from freckled jesus B): _alright :) i'll ttyl, trying to revise a little xx_

to freckled jesus B): _same here :/ x_

Jean does not revise. Instead he sits at his desk, various textbooks and notes stacked messily around him, staring past the hills into the overcast sky and worrying. He worries about Marco, and whom will be his soulmate, and how the hell and for how much longer he'll manage to put up with Jean. He worries about his parents, their inability to see him, or care for him, or love him, and how he'll tell them that he has a soulmate.

He worries about Eren Jaeger, and the many problems he poses: how they hate each other, how they can barely be in a room together for more than five minutes without fistycuffs at dawn, about being with him forever, about somehow trying to love and care for him. He worries about Eren Jaeger not ever loving or caring for Jean. It's never going to happen, he knows, but he's scared nonetheless. His parents don't even love him, and his parents despite being soulmates don't love one another, so why would his soulmate ever love him, right? It's not going to work. It would never work.

He spends the rest of the week in this fashion, and not once do his parents see _Eren Jaeger_  scribbled around his wrist. He pretends he doesn't either.


	2. Unavailable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> exams. that is literally...it. they have exams, they try and chat, surprisingly ppl who have never experienced a romantic relationship have no idea how to initiate one?? also bad texting bc it's what i live for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> try and spot the reference!! i put a really obvious one in maybe halfway through bc i couldn't stop myself... also, a lot of chat on education, i hope it all makes sense to everyone! exam diet basically refers to the month ur off school for exams. idk why my school calls it that, but...they do.
> 
> unabashedly shoving ridiculously scottish accent in all ur faces, it's almost entirely all eren. i'm pretty sure it all makes sense. ken also means know, just fyi.
> 
> no warnings, really, except possibly content that gives ur flashbacks of pre-exam anxiety. yeah. er, enjoy possible? feel free to comment, if you'd like to make my day <33

Eren should be revising. He knows Mikasa is, although he isn't sure when or how: she's working, and going to karate, and doing yoga, and finding time for Annie, but he knows she's been definitely doing _some_  studying because the other day she tested him on _1984_. She's in the top set for English and he's in the second, but they ended up doing the same book so she's taken to making sure he knows exactly what he's talking about when he's writing essays for it. It's helpful, if not ridiculously humiliating when he forgets the significance of London being called an air strip or the significance of O'Brien.

Armin's been studying, too. This comes as much less of a surprise. He works, as well, but his grandfather owns a little bookshop right next to their flat, so not only can he earn money easily, he can probably study on the job, too. Besides, Armin practically inhales books for a living: active studying for school is probably a joy for him. He loves all that science shit. Eren thinks it's bullshit and painfully difficult, but here he is, trying to remember the _exact_  relationship between kinetic energy and energy photons anyway. He should've just dropped it and taken Classics instead. At least he could've learned some cool shit about gods getting it on atop magic mountains instead of this bullshit.

Which leads to why Eren isn't revising. It's difficult, his subjects suck, and he's been fitting in a lot of shifts over the holiday. Erwin Smith, a family friend from somewhere or other, owns some quaint and popular in a hipsters-like-it way cafe just outside town. It's pretty, and serves good coffee, and has Erwin Smith as the manager and occasional barista, and means people can nip in on the way back from shopping, so it gets pretty packed, especially around rush hour. Eren would know. As he said: _lots_  of shifts. Erwin's been kind enough to give him a lot during the holidays - doubtless his mama's been telling Erwin not to give him any, so that he can study, and usually Erwin would take this into consideration, but Eren swore that he could handle both school and extra work, so Erwin's allowed this. So, he should be revising. But he isn't, because it's difficult and he's made too many coffees today and he's worn out.

Oh yeah, and Jean Kirschtein is his soulmate. Like he hasn't been stressing about _that_  all week, too. His work and studies are enough to distract him from the dainty letters round his arm, but when he's with Armin and Mikasa it's either a barrage of _are you sure you're studying enough Eren you're working too hard Karla must be worried_  and _Eren have you dealt with Jean yet you know he's not too bad once you get past the arrogance Eren are you seriously leaving the room now Eren really_.

He's been resorting to some desperate measures, okay?

Usually, he escapes worrying about Jean, but it'll catch him at the strangest of times: a customer at Coffee Corps smiling sweetly when they catch sight of the name; his mama staring out the window, _still_  wondering if Grisha will ever return; the seconds before sleep overtakes him and the moments when it releases him from its grasp; and the seventh of April, when a text came in from a number named _horseface_.

Eren had almost forgotten that Jean would be learning Eren was his soulmate. Thankfully, the text wasn't anything serous: a request to _not_  talk about it, actually. It led into a dumb argument after two seconds, and was concluded within the minute, thank God. In small doses, Jean is manageable.

The question of how Eren's going to put up with him for the rest of his life is what worries him. Doubtless Jean will distain his lifestyle: him and Mikasa working for little pay to keep their small family going; the cramped flat they live in with one bathroom between the three of them; the scholarships and bursaries that helped them enrol in their school; the countless ripped, patched, holey or otherwise tattered clothes that Eren owns, gotten on sale or in charity shops, always searching for the lowest price. At their school, people act like wearing designer is the norm: kids bring Beats to school and throw iPhones in the air and talk about the pretty dresses or tailored suits they got on their weekend trip to France.

Okay, like, very few people are like that. Jean's one of them. The rest can settle for _Jack Wills_  or _Hollister_ , but Jean reeks of money and expensive gadgets. The clothes he wears to school are probably designer. Eren wouldn't be surprised to learn his trousers were actually hand-tailored and each of his shirts is silk from Italy. That's the kind of money Jean has, a bloody lunatic amount, and not once has he ever seemed modest about spending it.

Eren hates him on principal, really.

\--

The first day back after the holidays is the worst - they have two weeks before the exam diet, then they're in for a world full of pain. Eren's exam timetable is fucking bullshit as well - Drama, Physics, and History are all in the first week, English in the middle of May, and Modern Studies at the very end of the exam month. He needs to know so fucking much, especially for Physics and History, and there's something incredibly disheartening about returning to those classes knowing he hasn't revised nearly enough for the exams in two weeks. His teachers aren't even on his arse, they're just wearily asking if everyone did enough revision and warning them all that they don't have much time left and they still have a shit ton they probably need to do.

Eren plops into his seat at lunchtime with a tired sigh. The fifth year get their own separate area upstairs during lunch, but it's just as noisy as downstairs, and it means that eventually Jean's going to come up here and him and Eren are going to have to have words.

"What's up, Eren?" Armin asks, unpacking his sandwich from his cute little lunch bag. Mikasa sits opposite them, sipping at a smoothie, eyebrows raised.

"Tired," he mutters, dropping his head onto his arms and ignoring lunch altogether. After April holidays, boys are allowed to wear short-sleeved shirts, and the pretty calligraphy of Jean's name is just visible beneath the starched cloth. "Worried 'bout exams."

Mikasa nods. "Me too," she sighs. She took Maths, and Art, and spent her days alternating between her other four subjects then staying up all night to finish her portfolio for Art. She looks dead tired, like him, but Annie wanders up and washes a hand through Mikasa's hair before taking the seat next to her.

"Exams?" she asks.

"Yeah," Armin replies, shoving water at Eren. "I'm really dreading Chemistry, if I'm honest. We still haven't finished the course and we've only a fortnight left."

"Christ," Annie mutters. "Neither has History. At least in Maths we're revising."

That's another problem: though their new subjects officially start in June, everyone forgets whatever they've learnt over summer, and so the course has to restart in the autumn term. However, this only gives them a term before prelims, and only two to cover the full course before exams. Some subjects, like Maths, routinely manage to finish coursework by winter; other subjects, notably History and its disgusting amount of essays, always seem to run right over to April.

And now everyone's suffering. Fifth years _know_  Higher year is the worst; they've all heard the horror stories, and they've all been reassured by the sixth years that it's not as bad as it sounds. It _is_ still pretty fucking bad, though. Armin's the smartest guy Eren knows, and some nights he doesn't sleep because he's terrified he won't get the A's he needs to get into Oxbridge. Mikasa spent hours at the art shop buying all the tools she needed before the holidays so that she could spend every day painting and drawing and colouring, and there were nights where Eren would wander out for a three a.m. snack and hear the scritching of her pencil from her room. Annie's still complaining about History; Eren's just glad he did his Drama practical back in March, so at least that's over. He's fucking _terrified_ over Physics, though. Why on earth did he choose a scientific subject again? Worst idea ever.

At least he didn't take Maths. He was passing by that way going to class and he saw Christa emerge from a classroom, looking on the verge of a breakdown as Mina hurriedly tried to explain optimisation to her.

Lost in the abyss of exam stress, Eren doesn't register someone calling his name, nor someone repeating it, and not even someone yelling it until Mikasa mutters, " _Eren_ ," and something sharp nudges his ribs.

"Whit? Drama?" he asks as he shoots upright, shaking his head to get his hair out his face.

" _Drama_?" Eren sees Annie mutter at Mikasa, seconds before someone grabs his shoulder and wrenches him from his chair.

" _Jaeger_! What the fuck is your problem?!"

Fucking Kirschtein, fists out and fire in his eyes. Marco's standing to the side, looking on nervously - Eren ignores him.

"The fuck's _my_  problem? Why the fuck are you yelling at me, Kirschtein?"

"Why the fuck are you ignoring me, you twat?" Jean's getting all up in Eren's space, as he is wont to do, and his eyebrows are gathered in the centre and his fists are up and out and look very close to punching Eren in the face.

_What a fucking tool._

"If you wanna fuckin' ken, I was stressing about my God damn exams, a'right? Just like _everyone else_  is."

Abruptly, Jean hunches forward and his face goes slack; dropping his head to his hands, he groans, "Aw, _shite_ ," and scrubs at his forehead.

Eren smirks at the sight - even though he feel the exact same way, to be honest - but a glance back to his friends shows that they're both very unimpressed with his handling of the situation.

"A'right, a'right," Eren mutters. "Didja have something you wanted tae talk about?"

Sighing, Jean looks up. "Did I have something- what do you think? C'mon, I think Mr Smith's room'll be empty."

Straight to the chase them. "Aight." Saluting to his friends, Eren trudges after Jean, who gains a pat on the back from Marco before leaving.

They're silent as they leave the stand and go to the main building, and all the kids there stare at him and Jean - everyone from the teeny first years to the exhausted sixth years all stand and gape at them, but Eren just shoves his hands in his blazer pockets and holds his head high, ignoring them all. Next to him, Jean's arms are crossed again and his eyes are trained on the ground. His right wrist, the one closest to Eren, has a watch wrapped round it - it's a big one, with a thick leather strap and a shiny face, but when Eren looks closer he can see black ink dripping beneath it.

Well. That answers one question.

Eren decides now isn't a good time - he waits the two minutes it takes to find an empty classroom, and then sprawls himself out over a desk and leans back against the wall. Jean perches on the edge of the desk opposite, feet kicking the ground as they both ignore each other.

"...So," Jean ventures.

"So," Eren sighs. "Soulmates, aye?"

"I can't believe it."

"Me neither." Eren pauses, then pulls at his sleeve. "Wanna see?"

"Actual evidence that we're soulmates? Don't think so."

"C'moan, I wanna see mine's."

"Wha- _no_!"

"How no? It's my name, I deserve t' see it!"

"It's _embarrassing_."

"Och, shut up, it's no' like anyone else'll see it. C'moan." Eren jumps off the desk, pulling up his sleeve a little so Jean can see it. "Look, it's written all girly the way you write. And that's where I almost lost my arm in that car crash I was in. C'moan, show me yours. Why's it on your wrist? Didja break it or summat?"

Jean might stiffen slightly, but it's not something Eren notices - he's reaching for Jean's watch, tugging at it as Jean slaps his hand away.

"Ugh, shut up, fine." And Jean twists the watch strap and slides it off, and Eren sees his own name printed around Jean's wrist - it looks wrong, it looks childish and jagged and too _stupid_  for Jean, and a boy of Jean's standing and class and wealth, and Eren sees the contrast too clearly.

His skin, dark and rough against Jean's pale hands, against the blackness of the tattoo.

They're too different for each other. Jean's too high-class, too posh and civilised and proper, and Eren's working a job and struggling to maintain good grades and living in a council flat with a single mother and his foster sister. Besides, Jean likes pasta more than pizza, so clearly things just aren't going to work.

Maybe Eren's been staring too long, because Jean yanks his wrist back and covers the name again.

"You no like it?"

"I hate it."

Eren swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. "...Sound."

Jean looks at him strangely, then casts his eyes away. "What do we do now?"

"I dunno. I thought Armin was going tae tell me what t' dae."

"Yeah, Marco told me this was a good idea but...what do we even talk about?"

"I dunno, mate. I ken you obviously don't like it, but it is what it is... What do your parents think?"

Jean hand curls around his wrist, despite the watch. "They don't... Uh, they don't know yet."

"They don't- what? Wasnae your birthday, like, a week ago?"

"...Yeah."

"So like- uh- _how_?"

"They're just- very busy people. I haven't...had the chance to tell them yet. Is all." Jean's eyes are down and he's picking at his nails, and Eren thinks he should probably care more about the fact that Jean's lying but he honestly can't be arsed about what Jean does or doesn't want his parents to know.

"Aight, so, what is it? They homophobic? Racist? Both?"

"No, they're-!" Jean bites his lip. "I don't know. I haven't asked."

Rich bigots. Eren's not really surprised. "Right, well, obviously my mum's sound - what wi' Mikasa an' Annie an' all. She's already asked about you, actually. She said she wasnae very surprised."

"What?"

"I know, right? Even Mikasa an' Armin were shocked."

"Same. Marco called me up in the morning and started _laughing_  when I told him who it was."

"Christ, same wi' Armin. I thought my mates would be more sympathetic, bloody hell."

He's grinning in memory, even though at the time he was pissed, and when he looks up Jean's eyes are all soft and it feels spectacularly unfamiliar and strange.

And...kind of nice.

_Christ_.

"Yeah... So. Should we... I don't know. What should we do?"

"I've no bloody idea. I'm just tryna good grades so I can get into the police, you ken?"

"Yeah, same. You leaving in sixth year?"

Eren shrugs. "If I get the grades...I might stick fae Advanced. If I don't, scholarship runs out, so."

"Oh, right... Duh. I'm going to stay, try and get into Oxbridge."

"Like Armin? Seriously?"

"Yeah, well, taking on my parents' business, so...I have to be good."

"Parents' business?" Eren lets out a sharp laugh, but at Jean's cold glare he just rolls his eyes and ignores it. "Right, fair enough. I'm just goin' into police academy, so...which one d'you prefer, Oxford or Cambridge?"

"Cambridge."

"Right, well I can have a look for academies there, but I don't think-"

"Why would you do that?" Jean's voice is suddenly much sharper; Eren looks up from where he's been fiddling with his scuffed blazer to see a scowl back on Jean's face.

"Well...shouldnae soulmates...stick t'gether...?"

"We... Are we thinking about uni _already_?"

"School's been bloody thinkin' about it since third year, _aye_."

"Yeah," Jean mutters. "Alright. Christ... Why don't we just...try and be civil, get through exams, and talk in June? When's your last exam?"

"Bloody Moddies on the twenty-seventh. You?"

"Art, twenty-ninth. Do you want to talk...Saturday after?"

"You don't wanna day t' recover?"

Jean waves a hand. "It's _Art_ , all I need to do is write a couple essays and talk some shit on some artists, it's nothing."

"A'right, know-it-all." He makes a mental note, then adds, "Won't Reiner be doing the usual end-of-exams party then?"

"Maybe? He's been talking about it on Facebook for ages, but he hasn't really put down a time and date yet."

"Aight, well, if he is, let's be done a whiles before it starts."

"Sure. Why don't we deal with it later?"

"Fine! Christ. I'll text you like a week early, aight? Til then, like, mate, I am fuckin' dying over these exams, so I aint concentrating on shit but those."

"Same. I need to get all A1's or I'm _fucked_ , I'm no Armin, I need to revise non-fucking-stop for that."

"Aight. Text me when you tell your parents, aye? My ma's gonnae wanna meet 'em at some point, an' you too."

"...Right."

"Kay. Good luck on your exams, don't be a douchebag, talk to you in like, a month."

"Six weeks."

Eren jumps up, throwing Jean a look of disbelief. Standing and digging his hands deep into his pockets, Jean just says, "Right, well, whatever. I'll see you then."

And then they proceed to walk all the way back to the stand together, which makes for some very awkward silence and guarded glances. People keep staring, and Jean seems to be bothered by it, but Eren's never cared for what other people think of him and ignores them with ease. They don't part with a wave when they get to the stand; Jean departs instantly to sit with Marco, Sasha and Connie hooting as he goes over; and Eren returns to Armin, Mikasa and Annie.

Reiner and Bertholdt, Annie's best friends, have also joined them, and Reiner's first words are, "You hangin' with Kirschtein?"

Eren shrugs. "Figured we should chat, try not tae fuck each other up during exam period."

"Fair enough," and Reiner asks no more. Instead he discusses, in excruciating detail, the last rugby game of the season, congratulating Eren on his part and nudging Bertholdt as he describes the latter's catches.

See, there's a pair that work perfectly together. Ymir and Christa were like that; completely in-sync, and there was no surprise when they got each other. Mikasa and Annie was perhaps a little unexpected, but they're quite similar and it's understandable. Jean and Eren? _No fucking way_.

Reiner and Bertl aren't like that, though. Best friends since they were kids, apparently, and Bertl's always been quiet and shy and awkward, so Reiner was the tough best friend who warded all the bullies off. Their relationship is still kind of like that, except Bertl's found his voice a little more and is almost as strong as Reiner. They work around each other, with each other, non-stop - seeing them in classes without one another is always strange, and when they _are_  together, they're always close, pressed from shoulder to thigh or with one's arm around the other.

There's no doubt they'll be together.

Eren _wishes_  he'd had someone like that, but he didn't. He got Jean.

Well, at least they're avoiding each other for the next six weeks.

\--

"Well, Eren?"

"He said no, Ma, they don' know yet."

"Well, when Mikasa an' Annie found out about each other, I met the Leonhardts after barely a month!"

"I dunno, his parents are like hotshot executives o' some huge business, I guess they don't have time. He didn't seem tae want tae talk about it, so like...whatever."

" _Eren_. Don't be so blasé about your soulmate. How will you make your relationship work if you don't put some effort intae understanding him?"

"He's a huge prat with some superiority complex, Ma, I _do_  understand him."

Karla Jaeger tsks, then slaps his shoulder as he starts chopping the onion too widely. "Come on, Eren, we're trying tae have a _nice_  dinner here."

"Sorry, Ma."

"It's alright, love. I ken you disliked Jean before, but if you _are_  soulmates, then you have the potential tae love and care fae each other very deeply - but that can never happen if you don't show _some_  interest, Eren."

Eren sighs. "I ken. He's just- so _rude_ , and annoying, an' he's always shoving how rich he is in everyone's face, like, _och_ , I couldnae care less how many fucking Rolexes he owns, y'ken?"

"I ken, love, but he's more than his material possessions. You should invite him over sometime."

Tipping the onions into the frying pan, Eren goes to the sink and says, "We already agreed not tae talk till exams are over."

"Oh, _Eren_ -"

"Whit? It's a rational decision. We'll no' piss each other off, we'll no' deal wi' any confusing feelings stuff, an' we'll be focused on our exams. And Ma, I _need_  tae concentrate on those exams, or else-"

"I ken, love, I ken." As the ingredients fry, Carla pulls out three plates whilst Eren gets the cutlery. "The whole concept of soulmates can be a very flawed thing. I mean, look what happened tae me." Her smile is weak, but it's there. "So if it's possible to make it work, you should always _try_. Not everyone can fall into place like your sister an' her girlfriend. You have years yet, love, sae long tae figure everything out... Navigating relationships is incredibly tricky, communication" - she gives him a very pointed look - "is _key_."

Eren nods, face grim. "I ken," he says. "After the exams, aye?"

"I agree, that does sound smarter. An' _do_  make sure he tells his parents, love, I'd love to meet them. Unless it's unsafe for him, or you, of course."

"Unsafe?" Eren repeats, pouring out three drinks for them.

"Well, if he's reluctant tae tell his parents, maybe there's a problem there. If they're homophobic, he could get kicked out, if they're racist..." Carla sighs. "They could prevent him from being wi' you. Anything's possible."

Eren scowls at the thought of Jean living anything but a perfect life. Jean's parents drown him in money and clothes and shiny gadgets - dictionary definition of paying your child too much attention, right? Jean's so _spoiled_ , Eren can't imagine him _not_  being fawned over by his parents.

"Mikasa? Tea's ready."

Carla unloads the stir fry onto the three plates, and Eren grabs two and takes them over, then takes over some of the drinks. Mikasa shows up in time to get everything else, and the three of them sit, at their tiny, rickety table on tiny, rickety seats, and eat.

"Mikasa, darling, what's your opinion on Eren's soulmate?" Carla asks without preamble. Eren groans, but he's ignored as Mikasa mulls the question over a bite of dinner.

"He's alright."

"Mikasa, are you-"

"He's quite stubborn, like Eren, and he is very up himself about how rich he is, but he's also very clever and sporty and he has some interesting viewpoints on things. He's not as awful as Eren makes him out to be, but he's still...pretty awful."

" _Interesting_? About what? When?!"

"Well, I've heard it said that people come into our lives fae a reason, an' we are led to those who help most to grow if we _let_  them" - another pointed glare - "'we help them in return. Sae, perhaps, Eren, fate has chosen you two tae be together because you can help each other overcome one another's flaws."

"...Really."

Mikasa _hmm_ s unhelpfully.

"Consider it, Eren."

"I will."

_After_  his exams.

\--

Exams past frightfully quick. The week at school before them is hideous - people have minor breakdowns all over the place; every single student who took a science seems to suddenly be boggled by their course; their entire year is panicking about Higher English, notably the worst exam; no one seems to remember the first half of their courses; and then there's that one kid who seems to remember _everything_.

That kid, of course, is Armin, which means Mikasa and Eren have him over every night tutoring them on the subjects they share.

Eren takes to locking himself up in his room in the evenings, leaving only for food and the loo. It's an okay strategy - sometimes he studies for hours on end and others he just stares at his textbooks, mind blank, or perhaps overwhelmed by the sudden rush of knowledge. At eight p.m. every night Mikasa goes outside to practise punching for half an hour, and Eren sometimes joins her, sometimes runs around their neighbourhood listening to his music for a while. It's his only relief, now that Mikasa's outlawed the internet for the exam diet.

Eren, thankfully, doesn't really see Jean. They only have one class together, and it has ridiculously tough essay-type answers that have to be executed very carefully, which means those seven Modern Studies periods are spent doing past papers.

The week ends, though, and on the next Wednesday they are plunged headfirst into their two English exams - and so it begins.

\--

Eren establishes contact with Jean only two times during this period. Once, after English Paper 2, wherein they had to write two essays in one and a half hours. Jean sits in front of him, since their surnames are so close together, and afterwards they trudge out together, too stunned to care, and Eren mutters, "I cannae feel my fingers."

"I think I'm having cramps."

"My second essay was shit."

" _Both_  of mine were."

"I wrote on _poetry_."

"I miswrote _all_ my quotes."

"I'm never gonnae get an A."

"Me neither."

"Bye, Jean."

"Bye, Eren."

The second time is after Modern Studies, which was equally as debilitating, and where Jean also sat in front of Eren. Eren's pretty sure he loses the plot multiple times in his essay answers, and struggles to pull out relevant facts and data about what he's being asked, and sometimes ends up staring at Jean's undercut and the way he leans right over the table as he writes.

Then he realises he is wasting _precious time_  and returns to the paper.

Afterwards, another short conversation: "I'm so fuckin' glad I'm done."

"Lucky. I've Art on Friday."

"Least Moddies is over. Cannae _believe_  I'm taking it next year."

"Same. Fuck, I didn't remember _any_ facts for question two, I really fucked it up."

"Mate, I absolutely ballsed up two as well - did we no' cover it in class?"

"Briefly, I think - Christ, didn't he tell us it wouldn't be in this?"

" _Oh_ , my God. Actually, I bloody hope so. At least I can blame him when I get a C."

"You won't get a C. Oh, God, what if I get a C?"

"Nah, you're a'right."

"Aw, but _Eren_ -"

Which is when the notice they're in the library, home base for dumping bags and last-minute revising, and they're standing very close, face-to-face, and everyone else who's just finished the exam are staring at them. Because they're rivals, and they hate each other.

Jean called him _Eren_.

"Fuck, well-"

"Hang on, we need tae talk about Saturday."

"Can't we- can't we do it somewhere else?"

"Och, you big baby, aight. Lemme get my stuff. You get the train?"

"Yeah, to Trost."

"Aight, well, we can walk to the station together."

And they pick up their shit and scoot off as fast as possible, avoiding questions and gazes from everyone else.

"Hideous," Jean mutters, casting a glance back to the library as they head off.

"They'll find out sometime."

"Kill me."

Opening the door and sighing at the wave of cool air, Eren says, "So, Saturday, aye?"

"Yeah."

"What time'll you be up?"

"Like, midday?"

"Solid. We can meet at like, one or two p.m. then? D'you wanna meet up at mine's or yours?"

"I don't care. My parents won't be home, so..."

"Oh, no, that's good. I'll come over then. Address?" Jean relays it off - post-code envy, much - and Eren continues, "Aight. I'll come over, you can buy tons of Irn Bru and snacks, we can work this out. We'll be fine."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Reiner says the party's gonnae start at eight, but no one'll show up till nine or ten. You pregaming?"

"Might do."

"Aight. I'll leave at like, five or something. When'll your parents be back?"

Jean bites his lip. "Um, I don't know. Usually, uh... Saturday, well, usually they'll be out having dinner with some officials, or other business people, so, uh...not till late, really."

Eren raises an eyebrow. "...A'right. Whatever, then. We can have lunch, or dinner, or both. And talk. You told 'em yet?"

"My parents?"

"Duh."

"Uh, no. No, not yet."

"How no?"

"They just... I just...don't see them around much. And they're always so busy with work, I don't want to bother them with...trivial...problems."

Eren feels a bit offended as being referred to as a trivial problem, but clearly there's more behind what Jean's saying, and his mama's words ring in his head as he opens his mouth to speak- but a train pulls up and Jean dashes forward, saying, "I'll see you then!" and leaving him behind.

Right.

Eren goes up and down the stairs, to the next platform, and waits a while for his train. Taking a seat on the metal bench, he considers their conversation. Civility at its _peak_ , he thinks, and hopes they can keep it up on Saturday. Hopefully at the party he won't get so drunk as to duff Jean up. That would be a problem. Something's a little iffy about the whole parents thing - Karla's been nagging Eren about meeting Jean and his parents for a good while, now, even though he dismissed anything till the exam diet was done. Jean may not be opposed to meeting Karla himself, but if he doesn't talk to his parents, they can't pin down a proper time for them all to meet.

Which, of course, begs the question: why _doesn't_  Jean just tell them? Getting on the train, he takes a seat and ponders, staring out the window and the gliding landscape. Jean could be telling the truth - he's an honest guy, Eren won't lie about it - and maybe his parents _are_  very busy, and Jean _doesn't_  want to bug them...or it could be something else. Maybe they don't care, or maybe they _are_  homophobic, or racist, or anything that would disdain their match. Maybe it's a class thing, and Jean doesn't want to admit to his very successful parents that he's with _Eren Jaeger_ of all people, whose dad didn't care long enough to stick around, whose mum works two jobs, whose family live on benefits and scholarships...

But Eren can take that heat. He's heard it enough times before. He's developed a very thick skin, and people being bitchy about poor people - as so often they are at his school - really doesn't bother him anymore, except to correct those people and explain, maybe a little passionately, why they're wrong. It's not what they say that bothers him; it's the _injustice_  of it all.

Eren wonders if it's that way for Jean. If Jean _does_  care, in some weird, warped way, about what his parents will think about Eren, how that'll _affect_  Eren...

Or himself.

That's far more likely, isn't it.

\--

  
When he walks out the exam hall, Jean fully expects to pick his bag up from the library, linger a while to bemoan the exam with friends, then wander home to chill the fuck out for the rest of the day. What he _doesn't_  expect is to get cornered by Mikasa Ackerman, who grabs him by his wrist and pulls him to a dark corner. Even though his soulmate is now her _brother_ , Jean can't help but get a little rosy in the cheeks when she touches him.

His heart's thumping a little too, but the colour drains from his cheeks when she speaks.

"If you fuck this up, Kirschtein, I will not hesitate to hurt you," she warns him, eyes narrow and lips in a sneer.

"You- I- _what_?" he chokes out. "What are you t-talking about?"

"I'm the first person he told, Kirschtein, I'm not an _idiot_. If you fuck this up, I will _hurt_  you. He is my closest friend, I will _not_  see him fucked over by you."

"I wouldn't- we don't- Jesus, Mikasa, we haven't even spoken properly!" His heart's still racing, but now more because he's absolutely terrified than flustered.

"It doesn't matter!" she snaps. "You're already screwing things up. You hide the name, you don't tell your parents, you don't tell _us_  why - you got a problem, Kirschtein?"

"No, there's not, I just-" He sighs. "My parents are just really busy, okay, really busy, and they always talk about work, I can barely get a word in edgeways..." Mikasa's eyes are incredibly sharp, and Jean remembers he needs to tread very carefully here. Marco thinks he understands, and Sasha and Connie are oblivious, but Mikasa does neither, she's astute, and she cares too much about her brother to not take a necessary interest in Jean. "Er, because, they're...so serious. About work."

She's unconvinced. "Whatever, Kirschtein," she mutters. "Just get it together. Even my mum is getting edgy about this, and upsetting her is a _crime_."

"I don't doubt that," Jean basically whimpers. "I'll just- try and tell them...soon?"

She backs off. "Good," and stalks away.

Shaken, Jean finds his bag and leaves as quickly as possible, plugging into his music and sitting alone when he catches the earliest train possible.

Mikasa, of course, doesn't understand. As far as Jean knows, Mrs Jaeger is kind and loving, always making sure her babies have enough money and food every day, and the few times Eren's spoken about her his face has lit up like a God damn Christmas tree.

Jean's never had that. No one in his family _cares_  that much, because they have work, or other friends, other things they care about more. It's fine, whatever. That's life. It's difficult to explain to an outsider, though, it's why he's never really told Marco the full story, why he's grasping at straws with Mikasa and Eren.

He has no idea how his parents will take it, if he's honest. Badly, probably. They're not so keen on non-white ethnicities, or people who don't get a pay check over £100k.

 

He tries to focus on his Art exam instead as he gets off the train and paces home. It was alright. The essays were fine, the still life question was fine, the design question was dodgy, but fine, and at least he didn't fall asleep halfway through like Sasha. Okay, she was woken up five minutes later by the invigilator, but still. That's fucking rough.

No one's home, of course, when he gets in, so he trawls up the stairs and collapses on his bed, digging his phone out his blazer to text Marco for some reassurance in life. As though Marco can read Jean's thoughts, though, a text pops up from him as Jean holds his phone over his face, and he smiles.

_hello babe!! how did art go?? is ur hand sore haha? nd r u goin 2 reiners tomoz?? apparently it starts at 9-10, byob, celebrate end of exams?? xx_

Jean's just glad for the distraction. _aight mate, art was fine. hand isn't as bad as was after history tbh :L duh goin to reiner's, probs half nine, c u there? pregaming? x_

_aww well thats good isnt it!! ahh yh think ymir's pregaming at abt 8, but beer isnt v gd...xx_

_yh lol. uhh probs go 2 that tbh? might bring some absinthe tho to forget abt convo with eren x_

_aw babe cmon it wont be that bad!! eren is a top lad when he's nice, trust xx_

_hm yh maybe. c u tomoz at pregame? xxx_

_yh duh. c u babes xxxxx_

At least he'll see Marco tomorrow. It's not enough, though, not enough to get Mikasa and her glares or Eren and his surprising civility out of his mind.

It's impossible for Mikasa to understand what it's like for Jean, trying so hard to get his parents' attention but failing, every single time. Impossible to tell her why they don't know he has a soulmate, and why they probably don't care.

Impossible to know how his parents will _react_  to knowing it. Impossible to know what they'd say, though Jean can imagine something along the lines of _low life riff-raff_ , because what's the worth of anyone who doesn't own a house?

Impossible to explain this all to _Eren_ , of all people, who cares about his family and friends so strongly, who must have no idea what it's like to be so distant from the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally. Jean doesn't want to tell him, doesn't want to let him know. He's kept this side of his life so carefully concealed, not even Marco's really aware.

Letting his phone drop to the side of his face, Jean wriggles out his uniform and crawls beneath his duvet, and even though it's two p.m. and the sun's still shining, he falls asleep instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...was that a bad ending. i feel like that was a bad, lackluster ending. sorry.
> 
> next time!! jean has...a 'chat' with his parents, about...'things'... he also cries a lot sorry not sorry. eren is repulsed by rich ppl. everyone likes musicals :)


	3. Trying to Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jean's parents are mean, marco's an actual saint, no one knows how to talk about soulmates?? eren still hates rich ppl, but he can be nice sometimes. virtually 0 progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry abt this being so late!! ahh i was going to save this as a draft before i went on holiday but i forgot to so i couldn't post it last saturday >> alas i did write more erejean fic (like a loser) when i was in italy so uh that will follow shortly lmao once i type it all up.
> 
> ahhh i'm quite nervy abt this. literally 0 progress made for real, i cover 1 month in 1 chap and then like a day in this one. also i'm a wee bit worried i'm not doing justice for jean's character even tho he's my fave trashbaby >>
> 
> anywayss warnings for this chap are just some racism and classism... sigh... also, i must admit i am v middle class, so all i know abt poverty and the working class lifestyle r things i've learnt from the media, modern studies, books etc... and if u have any problem with how i'm presenting that thru eren, mikasa and karla, pls tell me!! then i can hopefully understand it better and correct any issues <3
> 
> alas, enjoy, and pls feel a comment but of course don't feel obliged <3

Jean wakes eight hours later, when the sun's still out, but inching slowly down the sky, tinted orange and pink. He rubs at his eyes as he sits up, and grabs for his phone. Reaching too far, he tips over his bed and lands on the floor, and, groaning, he uses his bedside cabinet to pull himself upright and checks his phone for the time. A little hazy, he manages to find a pair of trackies and a hoodie, and shoves his phone in the front pocket.

Might as well do this before he talks to Eren tomorrow; might as well _seem_  like he's putting some effort into this joke of a relationship. It's Friday, so his parents should be in for once, and hopefully having a drink to de-stress - hopefully a little more mellow than they usually are. A little more willing to listen to him, perhaps.

It's with shaking fingers and a inherent lack of self-conviction that he resolves to tell his parents about Eren, but he resolves nonetheless, and sets off downstairs. The second floor is dark, but as he goes lower, he can hear a faint buzz from the living room. Downstairs, his mother sits on the sofa watching the news on telly, whilst his father is on the other sofa and reading the paper.

They're always _so_  separate.

Sliding up against the radiator, he opens his mouth, then closes it, and opens it again- tries to say something- aborts the sentence too late, and his mother's sharp eyes look up.

"Jean? What are you doing down here? Can't you see we're busy?"

Donning his arrogant bluster like a robe, Jean says, "I actually wanted to-"

"Is Jean down here?" his father interrupts, pulling off his spectacles and cleaning them on his jumper. "Why?"

Their words are the expected wave of reality Jean was hoping might be diluted; the robe is disintegrating within seconds. "Right, well, I just wanted to ask about-"

"Get on with it, child."

"R-right." His fists clench and he burrows them deep into his pockets. His nails dig into his skin. "Well, actually, I finished my last exam today-"

"How did it go?"

"That's not-" He sighs. "It was Art, it was fine."

"Do you think you've passed it?"

"Yes, but-"

"Well, what about your other exams?"

"They were-"

"What subjects did you take, Jean?" his mother asks.

"Er, Higher Maths, English, History, Art and Moddies."

"Well, how did they go?"

"They were mostly fine- good, I mean good. Great. English was a little hard-"

"Hard? So you've failed it," his father cuts in.

"No! I mean, I-I don't know. I don't _think_  so. It wasn't, um, _too_  bad."

His father sighs.

"What about Maths? Isn't that supposed to be very hard?" his mother asks.

"...Maths is one of my best subjects."

She waves a hand dismissively. "Well then. An A1, I expect?"

"Maybe. We won't find out til August."

"Suppose not." Her eyes are fixed on the telly.

"That's not actually what I wanted to tell you," Jean blurts out before he loses his resolve. "On my seventeeth birthday, I-"

"Seventeenth? Have we given you money yet?" His father begins to dig out his wallet.

"It's fine, it was back in April, it's fine," Jean hastens.

The wallet is put back. "What, then? I don't have all day, Jean, I'm _trying_  to _read_."

"Yes, sorry, I know, it's just, I turned seventeen, so-"

"Ah, of course, you want us to get your provisional license."

"No! I mean, yes, but-"

"Suzanne, write that down, won't you?"

"What?"

"Jean needs a provisional license."

"Seventeen already?"

"Apparently."

She taps at her phone with a sniff.

"Uh, thank you Dad, Mum," Jean bites at his lips, "but that wasn't... I mean... When you turn seventeen, you get your soulmate's name-"

His father lets out a loud _Ha!_  "Hear that, Suzanne? Soulmates! They don't exist, child."

Jean's brows crease, and he feels something sinking down past his throat into his lungs. "Right, well, don't you want to see? The name, that is-"

"Names mean nothing, child. The thing doesn't make any sense."

"If... Of course, if you say so, but don't you...want to know...anyway?"

"What's this? Soulmates?" his mother asks, pausing the telly.

"Apparently."

Jean shuffles over and presents his wrist, taking off the watch and stretching his arm out towards her, tilting his wrist so she can see it fully.

"Hm."

"Give it here, child."

Jean goes to his father, repeating his actions, and can't help but wince at the disdain shining in his father's eyes. It looks so _inelegant_  on his wrist, so childishly jagged, so _immature_ , so _wrong_ on him.

"Eren Jaeger."

"Yes."

"Pretty, is she?"

Jean actually does wince, and steps back. "It's not... Eren's a boy, Dad."

"...A boy."

His mother looks up. "That's not a problem, is it, Eric?"

"No."

"No?" Jean repeats. "What about the company? Don't you want an heir?"

"An heir?" his mother scoffs. "We employ people based on their skills and influence, not their _surname_ , Jean."

Something very heavy is shadowing his heart, and his nails bite into his palms, but still he says, "No? So who... Who's going to take over the company next?"

"Who cares? Whoever's good enough, Jean, why does it matter?"

"So...anyone could be the next CEO?"

"Obviously."

Jean's absolutely floored. His eyes are wide, and he can't stop biting at his lips, and he needs to blink an awful lot.

"Oh... Right. Obviously."

His mother turns the TV back on.

"Well, Jean, what's this Jaeger boy like? Rich? Powerful?"

 _Neither_.

"Not... Not quite."

"Didn't some Jaeger doctor walk out on his family a while back?"

"Er, yes, that did-"

"Well, how's the mother doing?"

Jean cringes. "They're, er, uh... Well, Eren, he...is on a scholarship, and I think he has a job, and..."

"Poor, then."

"...Yes. Yeah, they are."

Jean's father puts his spectacles back on with a heavy sigh.

Jean's hands are beginning to hurt, and he thinks he can feel blood, but he has to be absolutely certain - he has to _know_. "Wait- he's, uh-"

"What _is_  it, Jean."

"He's, well, German and Turkish, so..."

His fathers eyes narrow. "Well? So he's not..." He stares at his own white skin.

Jean's lips begin to hurt, too. "He's mixed race," he mumbles.

"Typical," his father sighs. "And he's _your_  soulmate, Jean?"

He shuts his eyes, repeatedly, tries to ignore the wetness in them. "...Yes, Dad."

" _Typical_ ," and turns the next page of his newspaper.

"Useless," his mother scoffs quietly.

Jean tries despite this. Jesus, he _tries_  - isn't that worth something? "That's not all," he hurries, "they want to meet up with you..."

But they aren't listening. Jean is stock still for some time, eyes flitting from his father to his mother, fists clenched so tight in his pockets, but they take no notice of him, they _never_  do, and he rushes back upstairs, pours himself a massive bowl of cereal, then retreats to bed.

Jean can't possibly comprehend all that's just happened, but he can't ignore it, either. He's spent his entire life working towards being the heir of the company - the name has _Kirschtein_  in it, why wouldn't he be the heir? He's spent so hard working for his subjects, trying to get A1's in them, trying to get into Cambridge, to be told it's for nothing? For _nothing_ , because his parents barely care, his parents don't want him as their heir, why, _why_  don't they want him, why can't they want him?

_Typical. Useless._

Jean Kirschtein, works hard but why should it matter, Jean Kirschtein has a poor, mixed race soulmate, how rubbish, Jean Kirschtein's entire life has become meaningless because what's he supposed to do if he isn't in charge of the company? He never really liked it, nor business as a whole, but he spent his life dedicated to learning it anyway. He doesn't know anything else, has never been particularly talented or skilled at any other subject. What can he do? What should he do? Where can he go now?

His eyes burn, and stretching his fingers is painful, and when he finishes the cereal he throws it all back up again and falls straight back to sleep.

\--

Jean awakens early - at five-ten, to be precise, and the sun's light is pale yellow and the birds are twittering in the trees. Outside his window, Trost looks lovely in a way it only can in morning light. The colour's beens sucked from everything, replaced with a steady golden glow, and it looks almost pretty, and Jean considers finding his sketchbook and pencils when he checks the time and remembers why he's up so early. Why he went to bed so early.

Jean's not going to inherit his parents' company. His parents don't approve of Eren. His parents don't _care_.

They never did. Why is he so surprised?

His hands are bloody red palms.

Tears are building, it's awful but true, he's wasted so much of his _life_ and he doesn't know what to do and he doesn't know how to face his parents again and, honestly, he does the first thing that comes to mind.

 _"...Jean? Why are you calling me at...ugh, five a.m., babe?"_  Jean can't bring himself to say anything. _"Jean? Jean, seriously, what's-"_

"My parents aren't- I'm not-" He lets out a sob. "Marco, I'm not inheriting the company. They don't want me. Marco, Marco, what do I _do_?!"

 _"They...what?!"_ Marco sounds shocked, and Jean sobs again. _"Are you- seriously? But Jean, you're so clever, you've always said you were training to become the next CEO, I don't understand...?"_

"Neither do I!" he wails. "I thought- I just assumed- I was so stupid, oh God, oh Marco, I can't believe I never figured it out, I can't believe... What do I... I tried so hard, I was going to apply to Cambridge for business, but what's the point? What's the fucking point, Marco, I hate business more than anything, it doesn't even matter now, but I have no idea what to do, I have no _idea_  what to do-"

 _"_ Jean _."_

"...Yes?"

_"Babe, calm down. It's five a.m. When did this happen? Why are you calling me the now?"_

"It was, uh...last night. I-I was trying to tell them ab-bout Eren, and they... Well, they didn't have a problem with him being a boy, a-and I thought that was weird because I figured they'd want an h-heir, but then they told me they...won't choose their successor based on surname, so... S-s-so..."

He breathes very fast; he's curled up in a tiny ball against the headboard of his bed; and his face feels damp, hair sticking to his forehead, phone pressed against his ear. He squeezes his eyes shut, and feels tears dribbling from them.

How weak. How embarrassing. Is it, in all honesty, really any surprise his parents don't care for him?

 _"Alright, Jean,"_ Marco replies softly. _"That's rubbish. I'm sorry, mate. Understand, Jean, that you can make it through this; I know it's awful that it's happened, but at least you know now, sooner rather than later, so you can apply for whatever you want, yeah? History, or Art, or...whatever you like. It's okay to be upset about this, mate, but there is so much more the world can offer you, now."_

Marco is, in fact, an angel.

Jean sniffs. "I know," he chokes out, "but I can't... I just can't believe it..."

 _"I know,"_ Marco soothes. _"It's tough, I know, I'm sorry. At least they have no problem with Eren."_

" _Oh_ ," Jean scoffs through the tears, "they do."

_"They...do?"_

"He isn't white and he isn't rich, what do you think?" Jean's voice is vicious, and his fingers grip his duvet till his knuckles are white.

 _"Oh no,"_ Marco sighs. _"Is that why I never see them?"_

 _No_. If they were around enough, it probably would be, though. "Yeah."

_"Oh, love. I'm sorry. It's awful people still hold such old-fashioned views about these things. Is it going to really affect you?"_

"They didn't..." How to phrase this...? "They didn't r-really say anything wh-when I asked them about meeting E-Eren, so, so...I g-guess they don't really...c-c-care..."

 _"Jean,_  no _,"_ Marco says, his voice so sincere it brings more tears to Jean's eyes. Marco's so sweet and optimistic, he believes in good in _everyone_  but that's something Jean, in all his entire shitty life, could never dream of imagining. _"Jean, your parents will love you no matter_  who _your soulmate is, okay? Parents and their children share an unbreakable bond, I swear, that can't be compromised by such things."_

Jean thinks of killings, wounds, cases of kids getting kicked out for their soulmate's gender, race, class; kids getting kicked out for their _own_  gender, their own sexuality. His own parents, who don't hurt him physically, who don't love him properly, who don't even really listen to him; and he knows Marco is wrong. "If you think so," he agrees shakily, because he doesn't really want Marco to know how awful it is, here, with these parents. "I just... I'm so disappointed. I wish..." He pauses, certain Marco's silence is judgemental. Continues in a whisper, anyway: "I wish it wasn't Eren."

The pause extends, and Jean squeezes his eyes shut, like he's bracing himself, like he did hours and hours ago with his parents, downstairs.

Marco's voice is a little admonishing, but mostly sympathetic. _"I know, babe. I know - but this goes beyond what your parents think, okay? What you two can be together is more than all your fighting, more than your parents' opinion, more than your uncertain future. Babe,_  no one _has any idea what they're doing, okay? But at least you and Eren can not know what you're doing together, alright? You may think you hate each other, but you also really complement each other, and it's abs quality, I swear."_

 _Marco doesn't know, that's your fault, you haven't told him, it's not his fault_. Still, Jean's clenching his duvet too hard and tears are tracking down his cheeks and biting his lip is nearly painful. "Thanks, Marco," he mumbles. "I'm sorry for...for ringing you so late... O-or early, I guess..." He sniffs, loudly. "I just...didn't know what do..."

 _"It's fine, babe,"_ Marco assures him instantly. _"I'm_ always  _here for you."_

"I know... Thank you."

_"You alright for now?"_

"Yeah, I'm sound. G'night."

_"Night, babes."_

Jean falls into restless sleep.

\--

Saturday starts out awful - of course it does. After hours of tossing and turning, Jean falls asleep in the region of seven a.m., and so it's with the bell ringing loudly and his phone blaring out some ringtone that he jolts out of bed and straight onto the floor, banging his head on the corner of his bedside cabinet on the way down. Cringing in pain and the volume of his ringtone increasing, he stumbles back upright and answers his phone, tentatively patting around where he hurt himself to see if it's bloody.

_"What the fuck, Kirschtein?"_

_Oh, fuck._  Jean manages a barely-coherent grumble in response.

_"Whit?"_

"Uh... No... Shut up..."

The bell keeps ringing.

_"Open the fuck up, Kirschtein, or I'm fuckin' leaving."_

"Hang on, I... I-I..." He yawns, loudly, and collapses back onto his bed. "I just got out of bed..."

_"Yeah, I can fuckin' hear that. C'moan down and let me in."_

"But I'm..." When Jean glances down, he realises he's wearing what he was in yesterday. Right. "...Right, I... Hang on..."

He has no time to ponder where the staff's at - do they normally get Saturdays off? Or is it Sundays? Nonetheless, they aren't here, so he hangs up, tosses his phone down, and staggers to his door, through the rest of his floor, and begins lurching downstairs. His head doesn't _feel_  like it's bleeding, but it hurts like a bitch, or maybe it's too early for him to actually figure out anyway.

He makes it downstairs eventually, almost tripping on the bottom of his trackies, and makes it to the front door in peace. Rubbing his eyes, he opens the door to see Eren in proper black nylon trackies - Trost is fucking miserable, even at the end of May - and a heavy red hoodie. His eyes are narrow and his brows furrowed, and he glares at Jean when he lets him in.

"Fucking finally," Eren spits. "You're a fuckin' mess."

Sounds about right.

"Jesus, look at your fucking hair."

It's early. Well, no, it's not, but Jean woke up after a fucking _awful_  night and he's still feeling utterly shite despite what Marco said and, running a hand through his hair, it really does feel like a bird's nest, and Jean's not wearing his watch so he can see _Eren Jaeger_  printed across his wrist like a fucking _brand_  and yes, okay, he's already very close to crying again.

"Whoa, mate, are you a'right?"

Jean looks up, having been staring at the floor previously, and nods quickly. "'M fine, Jaeger." He tries to be brash, but it isn't happening. In wrinkled trackies and a hoodie, feeling worn to the bone, his usual arrogance isn't happening. "C-come on," he mutters. "Try not to get dirt on the floor."

"Aight," Eren says under his breath, like he doesn't believe Jean, but cooperates anyway. There's the sound of Eren shuffling over the welcome mat, then the squeak of his trainers against the marble flooring. Jean tries to ignore it, and veers left for the stairs.

The trek up both flights of stairs in mostly silence; Eren keeps snorting and scoffing, though, at the framed artwork on the walls, the little alcoves for delicate artefacts, the portraits of Jean's family. Those are all very classy, black-and-white, carefully composed. Jean's father sits on an intimidating armchair, his mother standing behind it with her hands on his shoulders and Jean off to the side, like usual, a hand on the arm of the seat. None of them are smiling, Jean knows, it's all fake. He wonders if it's as obvious to Eren. He wonders if the fissures in Jean's family will be obvious to Eren.

He goes up the stairs, and Eren hems and haws, and they go into Jean's living room. It's nice, mostly because his parents never go up here and he can buy all the furniture and cool bits and pieces he likes. Armchairs, bean bags, a long soft sofa opposite the HD, 4D, Smart flatscreen mounted on the wall; posters of his favourite bands and video games line the rest of the space; all his consoles, lined up neatly with his Blu Ray player; a mini-fridge right next to the sofa for those intense marathons; a little nook in the corner with his bookcase and a pile of bean bags and blankets with a standing light next to it; and other quirky little things, like the Tetris light or his Link figurines or his melting clock hanging off his bookshelf.

"You have your own floor?" Eren deadpans, surveying the room with pinched lips.

"Yeah."

"...Un-fucking-necessary."

Jean is literally going to cry if Eren doesn't shut up. Everything feels sore, and weary, like every nerve ending is raw, like every bit of criticism that Jean could usually take with a smirk and a comeback just grinds agonisingly into him, and his mind, and he's Eren's soulmate and he's not going to inherit the company and his parents don't care, they don't _care_ , and now Eren is being a wee git about Jean's hair and his house and the way he lives and it's just a little much.

He collapses into a corner of the sofa, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets and sinking into the soft fabric round his neck.

"What do you want to talk about?" he croaks, then winces. He sounds rubbish, too.

Eren takes another disgusted look at the room, then splays out on the sofa, legs wide and arms tossed round the back of the cushions. He glances over at Jean, curled up and tired, and asks, "Seriously, whit's up?"

"...No."

He shuts his eyes to block out Eren's bewilderment.

The cushion by his feet dips, and a warm palm lands on his shoulder. "Mate, no offense, but you look like you're about tae cry. Did something happen?"

_No. Nothing happened. I was wrong. I was just wrong._

Despite himself, Jean's shoulder shake and he lets out a sob, aborted too late, and he tears his hands from his pockets to press the fabric of his hoodie against his already-damp eyes.

Eren sounds a little startled. "Here, Kirschtein, we're not best mates but we're soulmates, right? So like...d'you wannae...like, talk about it?"

"I just..." Jean tries to speak, but his voice cracks and another sob comes out and an errant tear drops from the corner of his eye. This is hideous. This is embarrassing. Jean's not supposed to be like this, not in front of Eren or his parents or _anyone_ , except Marco, except maybe even Sasha or Connie. Jean's a mean little brat, too full of himself, too selfish, too rich to be sad.

He cannot _believe_  Eren is trying to comfort him.

Marco said he should, though. Marco says that Jean and Eren are soulmates, and should talk about things, and only then will they really bond. This is...an opportunity, right? For that to happen. It's not even that Jean hates Eren that much, Eren just seems to despise Jean's wealth, and Jean's always been taught to see the working class as something lower and dirtier than he, but he knows Marco's right, and that Eren's probably pretty decent on ocassion.

"My parents, they d-don't... They aren't..." His hands are fists against his eyes, and there's pain from the previous night of digging his nails in and the pain of doing the same right now. It's a bad habit. Did he forget to wash his hands last night?

Eren's rubs big circles across Jean's shoulder, along his back, shuffling up further so Jean's toes are pressed against his thigh. Jean can't bare to open his eyes yet.

"They aren't..." His voice is a whisper. "...giving me the c-c-company. I'm not- they don't- I-I-I-"

He starts crying in earnest, now, the hem of his hoodie sleeves damp with tears, and the wetness rolls down his cheeks so he drops a useless hand and clamps it over his mouth, screwing his eyes shut, trying to shut himself up.

Eren's movements have halted slightly. "They aint giving you the company," he repeats. "You're upset 'cause...your future _aint_  pre-planned fae you? You're upset 'cause you have tae live like a normal human being, wi' doubts an' uncertainty an' confusion?"

Eren's hand on his shoulder is still, and his voice has a hard edge in it. Jean can't look. He barely dips his chin in confirmation.

"Are you fuckin' serious." There's a pause, and Jean's red from trying to hold back sobs, a hand over his eyes and one over his mouth; then Eren spits, "So, you had fuckin' time tae ask about your God damn fuckin' _job_  prospects, but not tae tell 'em about me?"

Another loud sob that Jean barely muffles with a hand. His palm is slick when he lowers it, and grows cold quickly. "N-no..." A sob and a sniff and Jean wipes violently at his eyes before hiding them again. "No, I-I did, and they...didn't set a d-date because they're...busy, of course, right, they... They said that... They don't..."

"Get on with it."

"They d-don't like...p-people who aren't wh-white...or rich..." Jean makes a tiny choking noise. "O-obviously."

"Wow. Racist and classist, I never would have expected that fae the Kirschtein family." Eren sounds different from when he usually insults Jean; then it's angry, but playful, but now it's cold and cruel and though tears are still falling Jean tears his hand away, finally looking, and glares.

"Shut up!" he shouts, and cringes at how loud he is. Eren's eyes are equally unforgiving. "Shut up, please shut up, you're not..." He sniffs, and drags his hoodie sleeve along his cheeks again. "You're not helping _a-a-any_ one."

Eren crosses his arm, features sharp. "Fine." Eren sighs, at length; but then, he takes a gusty inhale, and opens his mouth to say something, and Jean just drops his head and ignores the wetness on his cheeks and again, Eren exhales. "Here, okay, fine. Is there..anything I can dae? D'you want a cuppa? Is there some secret comfort food that can make you feel better?"

"Why do you care," Jean mumbles.

"Mate, like I said, we're soulmates. So... Look, right, I'm sorry fae- making you feel worse than you already did, a'right? I mean, it's a stupit reason tae be sad, 'cause not everyone even _gets_  the comfort of knowing they'll have a job after... Right. Sorry. So, like, soulmates try an' make each other feel better, aye? But I'm no great at that, so I figured...cuppa tea and some biscuits. I mean, my ma used to do that stuff, when I was young."

"...That's nice." Jean wonders what it's like.

"...So?"

"Er, well...some, uh... I have some white tea, you just...put some leaves in and boiling water... Also, uh...I have some chocolate buttons in the far-left cupboard if you...want to share."

Eren quirks an eyebrow.

"The kitchen's just over there." Jean points to the door, and Eren gets up. He hears a bit of rummaging around, the clank of a mug on the granite surface, the rush of water into his kettle, then the click as it turns on. Eren leans against the doorjam and chucks the buttons at him.

"Your own kitchen, mate? D'you dae anything wi' your family _at all?_ " Eren's joking, Jean thinks, but it hits a little too close to home, and in this - admittedly, _delicate_  - state, Jean's eyes fill with tears all too quickly. "Aw, shite, sorry, Jean. I... Right."

Eren goes back to the kitchen, and taps out some rhythym on the counter whilst the kettle boils.

Jean opens the buttons, and relents to the comfort of chocolate. Remus was always right about this one particular matter - what he never said was that chocolate tasted _infinitely_  better in a circle.

"Here, so I just...dump these leaf things into the mug an' pour water? D'you want milk? Sugar?"

Jean wrinkles his nose. "Eren, you don't add _milk_  and _sugar_  to these kinds of tea. Just put these leaves in, pour the water in, and just bring it over. With a spoon, please."

Eren snorts at the please, but Jean's been ingrained with manners since he was a two year-old. Old habits, unfortunately, die hard, even around your rival-turned-soulmate. It only takes a half-minute more, then Eren's rounding the sofa to place the hot mug on Jean's side-table - he instantly moves it to the coaster - then slumps back in his seat, sticking a hand out for chocolate buttons. Jean gives him two, and Eren makes a face.

"This is how you thank me?"

"What'd you expect?"

"...Aye, a'right."

Jean stirs the tea a little with his spoon, then hesitantly pulls the spoon back out to try a little - it's silver, and burning hot, so he purses his lips and blows it a little before taking a sip. _Bloody boiling hot_.

Needs a little more brewing.

Jean turns his head, and Eren's watching; his brows are gathered in the centre and his mouth is quirked up, and when Jean raises his eyebrows Eren just shrugs. "Whatever, mate. I aint into this fancy tea, I have the usual cuppa, some milk, one sugar. Keep it simple."

"Hm." Jean has some more buttons, then tosses a few more at Eren. Eren grabs them easily, and piles the lot - okay, about four - into his mouth with a grin.

"Right, Kirschtein. Let's get down to business."

"To defeat the huns?"

Eren grins again, right at him, and says, "Aye, right. Can't say I'd ever imagine you going off to war, mate."

"Ha. Maybe I should join the army, that'd make everything easier."

"Easy? Is that what your life's about, making everything easy?"

"The easier life is, the better."

"No way, mate. The easier, the more _boring_. You hafta, you know, take chances and risks so you can bloody experience the world and shit."

"'Experience the world and shit'."

"Aye."

"Whatever, Eren. I've got enough money to do that in my own time."

"Yeah, cheers, I couldnae tell myself." Eren raises his eyebrows and stares at the telly in front of him; Jean rolls his eyes.

"You want to put on some tunes?" Jean asks.

"Mm, what you got?"

Jean doesn't even look. "A ton of shit."

"You got Mulan?"

"Might do."

"Stick that on, see how it goes."

So Jean starts up _Let's Get Down To Business_ , making sure his iPod is connected with the speakers a wee distance away, and can't help laughing when Eren starts bobbing his head in tempo.

"Come on, Eren, we have to focus!"

Eren sighs, foot tapping idly as he mutters to himself. "Aight, then. Soulmates..."

"Yeah."

"Soul... _mates_..."

"Uh huh."

"Mates...of the soul."

"I don't... I don't think so?"

Jean cocks his head, squinting at Eren; Eren takes one look at him and bursts out laughing.

"I dunno, mate!" Eren exclaims. "What do soulmates talk about?"

"Future plans? I... I don't know?"

"Future plans, right..." Eren gazes off into the distance, hand flopping uselessly between them on the couch, and Jean sprinkles a few more buttons on his hand. "Here, soulmates are just like friends, right?"

"Eren, I'm not in love with all my friends."

"Aye, no, obviously, right - but we do friend stuff during the day, or like, whenever, right, but it's just...interspersed with sex. Right?"

"I..." Jean wishes he wasn't so easily flustered, because heat rises in his cheeks within seconds. Eren's focusing on him again, and he's grinning. "Well...is it? We need to deal with stuff like, like uni and...our careers, and where we want to live and I- Like, I don't even know your favourite colour."

"It's red," Eren supplies, clenching a fist over his heart. "Like the blood of angry men." Jean rolls his eyes. "Yours?"

"Black."

"What, like the dark of ages past?"

"No, the colour of fucking despair you freak."

Eren fucking _shimmers_  with glee. "You know it! We should watch it together. D'you cry? I dae, a little, at the end. Oh, shit, an' wi' Gavroche, that shit is _brutal_ -"

" _Eren_."

"Och, fuck, Jean, I dunno! I dunno what the fuck you want me to say. I'm actually trying my best _not_  to think about uni, actually, we aren't all headed straight fae bloody Oxbridge and shit, aight? Career-wise, mate, I don't... I don't fuckin' know, aight? So let's just no fuckin'..."

Jean sips his tea, and hates the way it trembles ever so slightly when he catches the look in Eren's downcast eyes.

"Sorry," he mutters, putting the tea back down and shoving the packet of buttons at Eren. "Sorry, I just... I can't _stop_  thinking about all that stuff, my parents are so..." Eren looks back up. "S-so, anyway, I thought you were doing police academy?"

"I...want tae..."

"But?"

Eren's fidgeting: he's tugging at loose strands lining his hoodie, and he's looking away from Jean. He's frowning.

"I reckon... I reckon I bombed 'em."

"Bombed them?"

"Aye, the exams. All of 'em. I tried and... But, I don't think I...did enough..."

"Well, what do you even need to get into police academy?"

"Uhh, you need to be eighteen, you need to be really physically fit, good eyesight, pass the SET, and, uh...a driver's license."

Jean's brows furrow. "Right, well, what's the SET got in it? I mean, you'll be eighteen soon enough, you're obvs super fit, and you can get your license whenever, right? I think my parents just applied for my provisional, actually."

Eren's tears at the threads. "No, well... The SET has three different bits in it: so, language, which is fine, then numbers, which is...not...great...and then what they call 'information handling'? I had a look at some sample papers, like, bloody hell mate. The FAQ says you don't need Highers - no, you don't need _any_  qualification, so, like, it _all_  relies on the test."

"Well, if there are sample papers available, you can obviously just study those a lot?"

"Mate, how much free time do you think I _have_? If I aint doing homework, I'm at my job; if I aint at my job, I'm at practise; if I aint at practise, I'm trying to get the messages in or the laundry home or I'm makin' tea - or fuckin' talkin' to you about this shit. I'm no _like_  you, Jean, I aint got my fancy house and my adoring parents and all the money in the fuckin' world: I have to _work_  to make ends meet, I aint got time to study for this, I aint got money for a provisional, or lessons, or shit. I don't..."

Scowling at the outburst, but still too subdued to fight back, Jean takes a long drink from his tea and wrenches a few buttons from Eren. "Well, you and Mikasa win tons of shit from doing all those boxing competitions, right? So can't you...just use that?"

"Naw, it either goes towards keeping the family going, or into a uni fund, for accomodation and shit. I mean, I won't need it, you get free accommodation the entire time you're at the academy, but Mikasa..."

Jean's grasping at straws. "Well, I mean- can't you just _save up_? Or buy less stuff? Or-"

Eren's eyes are heavy on Jean's, and the lines on his face crease in a way that make him suddenly look much older. "Look, Jean," he says, "I aint trying to cause a fight, but you just don't _get_  it. We _have_  no money to save, if we buy less stuff we're not gonna eat for a day, I have no other option. Alright? We all do what we gotta do to get by."

"But..." Jean links his fingers together. "But if you don't get into police academy, how are you going to... _stop_  being poor?"

"I aint got no clue, mate. Wait till Mikasa finishes uni and gets a job, maybe she can pay for me." He says it all with a very dry, bitter tone, and his eyes are hard.

"I mean... If it matters that much, _I_  could-"

"Naw, mate. No fuckin' chance. I can handle it."

"But-"

"You keep your nice money to yourself, Jean. I don't need it."

Jean pulls his hands closer to himself, darting out only to grab his tea and curl his hands around its warmth, and drops his eyes. It's silent for a long, long time.

"Well?" Eren eventually asks, though his voice is rough and low. "What are you going to do?"

"What am I... Like, at uni? Oh, I..." The tea ripples. "I was...going to apply to Cambridge, o-obviously..."

"What are your other choices?"

"My others?"

"Yeah, I know Mikasa's applying to four big ones here and only one in England."

"Oh, duh, of course... Yeah, well, LSE, UCL, Durham, and St Andrews."

" _Really_?"

"...Yeah."

"That's pretty...top class, mate."

Jean snorts. "My parents would accept nothing less."

"Right, well... What course, then?"

"I thought... I _was_  going to do Business...but now I...guess I don't need to..."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

Jean looks up. His tea's almost done, and Eren's ripping at the empty chocolate buttons packet. His eyes are steady like the sea, though.

"Well... Is it? I have no idea what to do now, I...always had this plan and now it's been... _fucked_."

Eren laughs. "Well, what d'you like? ICT? Moddies? History?"

"No, I... I mean, yeah, I love History, I like Moddies, but..." Jean frowns. "I mean, the only thing I really _like_  is..." He meets Eren's eyes. "God, please don't laugh."

Eren shrugs. "Sure."

"I really...actually, like..." His cheeks are flaring up again. "Um, I really like art."

Eyebrows raising, Eren asks, "Art?"

"Y-yeah, like, uh, drawing and painting and shit. It's not really... It's a hobby, more than anything."

"Can I see 'em?"

" _No way_."

"How no? I won't be mean." Jean stares. "Okay, well...I won't be a bitch."

"Yeah, whatever. You can forget it."

"Aw, c'moan Jean!"

"I said no!"

Eren stills, and stares. Jean recoils, curls back into his corner, and scowls at the table in front of him.

"Look," he says in a more measured tone. "They're... _private_  to me, and no one's ever... I'm just not comfortable..."

"It's a'right," Eren relents. "Another day, aye?"

"...Yeah, whatever." One last sip, and Jean's mug is empty. It's still warm, though, so he cradles it to his chest and stares at the dregs pooled at the bottom of the china. He almost wishes he had a blanket - it still hasn't quite warmed up yet and with all that crying Jean feels drained - but he's also aware of how pathetic he must already seem, so he sets down his cooling mug and crosses his arms again. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I dunno. I don't..." Eren shrugs, his movements jerky and rough. They're two boys out on a stormy ocean with no boat; they're at a complete loss. "Annie and Mikasa became friends... Uh, they box and do yoga together... Sometimes they start pulling in the kitchen, though, which is like...pretty gross."

Jean rolls his eyes. "Right, so, aside from avoiding pulling in your kitchen, you're saying we should talk more and do yoga?"

"Nah, mate, do you even lift?"

"Oh, my _God_ , Eren-"

"I'm kidding! Jesus, Jean." Eren grins again, wide and lazy, and Jean quirks an eyebrow in reply. "Look, how about this..."

\--

They end up talking about genuine soulmate issues for five minutes; or, enough time to figure out neither of them have any idea what they're doing and almost have a fist-fight.

 _Almost_ , because Eren quickly gets distracted by Jean's chrome Xbox controller and his array of games, and demands a settlement to their fight via Mario Kart. He chooses Yoshi, like a loser, then laughs when Jean picks Waluigi. They race on Rainbow Road, because they're not babies, and their combined deaths during the three-lap race is, embarrassingly, a two-digit number. They agreed the loser would make more tea for the winner; the winner turns out to be a CPU.

They turn CPU off, and play again. And again, and again, and again, until they're automatically choosing new levels and laughing at each other, _with_  each other, screeching about blue shells and carefully-planted bananas. It grows warmer, and when Jean glances at Eren, sitting upright even on a bean bag, and always bright-eyed, Jean has a very slight notion of what having a soulmate could mean.

They're being very loud: they can't stop yelling at each other, and Eren keeps trying to beat Jean up with his Wii remote, and Jean just kicks him back, and every now and then one of them will die and yell _Bullshit!_  and the other will laugh hysterically, and Jean doesn't think his floor has ever been so raucous.

They've just finished a battle round, with Jean winning because he's obviously incredible at everything, when Eren's phone starts buzzing and, holding a finger to his lips, he pulls it out and starts talking.

It's a Nokia, which is almost cute, really. Eren talks loud, as usual, he says, "I'll just finish up here, aye? Naw, I won't take long, I'll catch the bus or something- Aye, my shift'll be done at eight, I'll come home straight after... My mate Reiner's got a party, remember? Aye, Armin'll be over. A'right. Talk to you soon. Love you, Ma."

The game's music is playing quietly. Jean mutes it, and turns to look at Eren. His mouth has a soft upturn to it as he tucks his phone away, and his gaze is distant until Jean stands with him.

"You going now?"

"Aye." Eren shakes his head a little, like a dog just out of water, but claps Jean on the shoulder. "It's been a'right. Didnae get much done, did we?"

Jean shakes his head. "I really know shit all about soulmates, to be honest."

"Same. We did our best, I s'pose."

"Did we...?"

Eren just grins again - it's a little disarming, because usually Eren glared and scowled or made faces every time he saw Jean, but suddenly Eren's being all _nice_  to Jean. He supposes Eren has to be.

Jean's about to show Eren downstairs when Eren catches his shoulder again: "Want me to stick around, make sure you're a'right?"

"It's alright, I'll just ring Marco or Sasha up."

"Fair. I like Sasha, she's sound."

"...Okay?"

"Aye, I mean, more than her whole thing with food, which is like, funny as hell, but, uh- She once showed me that whole archery thing, yeah? She was quality, mate. I was rubbish, but it was still great."

"Oh yeah, she showed me that once, too. Said I was pretty good."

"Why didn't you keep it up?"

"Oh, my parents...kept forgetting to sign the consent form, and I was too young to think of forging it, so...it just never really happened."

Eren gazes at him thoughtfully. "Huh. Sounds rubbish. You should ask her about it again."

"No way, I'd be rubbish, now. Especially since she's so brill."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she has cups and medals and shit for it in her room."

"Damn, she's bloody sound as hell. You think Connie'll marry her?"

"Well, I can't really imagine them not being soulmates, can you?"

"Naw, they're meant to be. You can just tell."

"Yeah... I wish I'd had that..."

Eren's eyes wander so the side, and his hands rub together: "Right, well, I've got a bus to catch, so...?"

"Sure, come on."

Jean leads the way back out the room to the stairs: mahogany, of course, gleaming with polish. They pass one flight of stairs- two- then Jean hears it.

The jangle of keys; the thud of footsteps of pristine stone floor; voices, clinical and cold, speaking.

Jean freezes, and Eren says, "Are your parents home? Hey, I can go see 'em right now!"

Jean throws an arm out, preventing Eren from going any further; panic creeps up his spine, and he says, "Hang on a second! H-hang on... Just... They might be busy..."

He doesn't look behind to see what kind of expression Eren's making; instead, slowly descends the stairs, one more flight, to see his parents flitting about the hall. The lights on their floor are out, and Jean hopes Eren is sufficiently bathed in darkness when he says, "Mum? Dad?"

At that exact moment, his dad opens the front door, and the click of the lock mutes Jean words.

He grips the bannister; and tries again. "Mum? What's happening?" God, he sounds like a kid.

His dad's half out the door, professionally dressed, and keeps going even after Jean's spoken. His mother is wearing a sharp trouser suit, and silver earrings, and her hair is tucked neatly behind her ears so when she turns to Jean, it doesn't move at all. She is perfect and untouchable, and her face is blank as she regards Jean. A wax model would be a better mother, he thinks.

"Oh, Jean." Her phone's out, of course, and she's tapping furiously as she glances away from him. "What is it, your father and I have a very important meeting to get to."

"Right! Sorry, uh, right..." Jean doesn't actually _need_  anything, except to introduce Eren, and there's no way he's doing that - not even with Eren pushing on his shoulders. "Well, there's a party tonight, so can I-"

"There's some Moet in the wine cellar downstairs; why do you even bother asking?" She sighs at her phone, and looks at him again. Outside, the car horn is beeping. "Your father and I shan't be back till late, we have this meeting, then a function down at the Hilton that will go on for a long time. Anything else?"

Eren punches Jean right between his shoulder blades; he tries not to react, but his eyes go wide and teary and his voice is strangled as he says, "Oh, w-well-"

But she's already walking away, hurrying to the door, and in seconds all that's to be heard is the echo of it slamming shut.

Quietly, Jean says, "I think you should go."

Eren doesn't; Eren pushes him down the rest of the stairs, glaring. "What the fuck was that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why didn't you introduce me?"

"Why would I?"

"Why _would_ \- because you've bloody needed to for a month, Jean! Why the fuck _wouldnae_  you!"

"They were obviously in a rush! I'm not going to...cause some confrontation when they have work!"

"Aye, right, but you stopped to ask fae some wine?"

"I couldn't- I couldn't _not_  say something!"

"So you shoulda told 'em I was here!"

Eren's grabbed his arm and Jean yanks desperately, but he won't give, and his teeth are bared, he's so angry. Eren's anger has always been rough and steeped in self-righteousness; his grip is so tight it hurts, but Jean refuses to let on.

"They wouldn't have cared!" Jean shouts. "Or did you not see them?"

Eren scoffs. "Yeah, I saw 'em. Rushin' off to work, huh? Couldnae give their sweetest little baby all the attention he needs, aye?"

 _Damn straight_.

"Yeah, shut up, Jaeger. You don't know the half of it." He checks the clock. "Don't you have a fucking bus to catch or some shit."

"Aye, I fuckin' do, Kirschtein. I'll no be seeing you later."

"Good. Now fuck off."

Eren snarls. "I fucking will." And the door slams shut again, and Jean is left in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao jean why r u always sleeping. kidding, i'm always sleeping. chocolate buttons bc??? they're the fucking best. also, musical references!! is that going to be a theme, we just don't know. probably, bc i am fucking obsessed with musicals. west side story anyone?? i mean it's quite fitting.
> 
> anyways. leave a comment if u pls, even if it's to tell me it's not utter crap <3


	4. Party Rockers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what is this shit. utter trash. eren's pov the entire time, he is angry, he parties, he's v chill with jean and he and mikasa are the best of sibs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmm....hm....... yeah well whatever. how do parties function? i've been to like three. all i know is that ppl pull all the time, but i feel like that would be a less common event in this kind of au. i actually googled expensive vodkas for this. that's like, how intense i'm going.
> 
> i've headcanoned jean as a sleepy drunk ever since i saw this ask-college-reiner post where jean was like passed out in a group photo, and i was just like, 'nice', and kept it. hitch shows up here, bc hitch is a bitch and i adore her to death; mina is here also, she's also a bitch, i apologise ik she isn't really.
> 
> yeahhh...u know how last chap i was like 'man this only covered one day and the other covered a whole month wtf' well this literally covers only 12 hours so...in a few chapters' time it's gonna be down to 6-7k words on one minute. it's inevitable.
> 
> err pls drop a line if u feel so inclined <3 even if it's to tell me there's something wrong bc like that's the shit i honestly need to hear... also sorry for eren's chat here, it's the accent combined with being drunk which makes for so many apostrophes it's embarrassing <3

Eren fumes all the way home. Why the fuck did Jean have to ruin what was, at the best of times, a pretty great day? Yeah, sure, maybe it was awkward every time they tried to discuss soulmates (key word absolutely _tried_ ) and the whole _crying_  thing was just...bizarre, really, but it ended up being pretty damn fun, when Jean loosened up and started trying to beat him on the Wii. He'd smiled and laughed and kept kicking Eren whenever he got a blue shell even if Eren hadn't sent it, and there were times in the midst of their banter when Eren had caught a glimpse of him - cheeks always a little flushed, hair a fluffy mess and half-hidden beneath a hood - and he'd thought, _Yeah, alright. I can do this._

And then Jean had ruined it, just like he ruins everything. His parents were right there - _right fucking there_  - and Jean didn't let Eren meet them. 'Busy', he'd said, 'rushing'. Holds Eren back, asks about Moet, then gets angry at Eren for being pissed by it. God, what was the boy fucking playing at? Fucking cries one minute, slaps Eren for blue-shelling him the next, then outright _stops_  Eren from meeting his parents.

Like, yeah, his parents were about to leave, and okay, they seemed to be in a rush, and, alright, the mum seemed a bit...very...dismissive when she spoke to Jean, but that absolutely was not an excuse and Eren is pissed as all hell about this.

Fuck, this is a mess. This is a fucking horrific mess, and it was always going to be. Eren tried to be patient, _fuck_  did he try - he kept in mind what his mama said and held back about the way Jean got a whole fucking floor to himself - it's probably bigger than Eren's entire flat - or the fucking photos that lined the stairs like the Kirschteins could never stop mocking him, or how Jean was in tears - fucking genuine, trying-to-stop-himself _tears_  - about how he _wasn't_  going to own his parents' company when they were gone.

Eren fucking held back every fucking thing he wanted to say - God, he wanted to say a _lot_  - because frankly, Jean's emotional state had been more than a little jarring, and Eren wasn't sure how to deal with a Jean that wasn't sporting an alive-but-only-because-I'm-rich attitude, so he'd felt it best not to aggravate the situation. He made Jean _tea_. He was _nice_. And what does he get in return? A cold-ass shoulder, a refusal to meet the fucking parents.

Okay, yeah, Jean said that his parents were racist, classist assholes, and yeah, they were on their way to work, and _yeah_ , meeting them right then and there may have caused more problems that it solved, but it's just the _principal_  of it. Jean didn't even try to explain! Just came out with his usual 'oh yeah my parents are super busy earning tons of money for me to spend on bullshit haha' exuse as per fucking usual.

"Eren." Hands grab him by the shoulders, haul him from the living room to his and Mikasa's room, and shove him onto his bed.

Mikasa hovers in front of him, in a sports bra and matching leggings, earphones dangling round her neck. She's coated in filmy sweat, and her cheeks are red, and she takes a swig from her water bottle before cocking her head at him.

"Whit."

"You slammed the door shut and didn't answer me before. What happened at Jean's?"

Eren lets out the loudest, angriest, " _Och!_ ," in the whole of existence, and follows it up with, "Fucking rich ass snob thinks he has everything in the world, doesnae listen to fuckin' _anyone_ , what a fuckin' prick, what a fuckin' _eejit_ , I'm gonnae fuckin'-"

Mikasa sighs. " _Eren_. Tell me what happened."

Ere just shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. "Honestly, no fuckin' idea, Mikasa. At first he was crying, aight, but only because he wasnae gonnae inherit the company, what _bull_ shit, an' then we try and chat but it doesnae go anywhere so we play games, all good, aight, an' then I'm leavin' and his parents are leavin' an' he _refuses_  to let me see 'em. Fuckin' _held me back_ , told me they were busy and didnae want tae see me. _Bullshit_ , he's fuckin' _bullshit_ , Mikasa, this is fucked."

Mikasa nods slowly, her eyes flickering in a way that means she's considering all he's said. "Crying," is the first word she says. "Jean?"

"Aye."

"Well...that's unexpected. Perhaps it's something to pursue, if you want to understand him better." Eren scoffs, but Mikasa shoots him a glare and he shuts up ."Clearly you can put your differences aside when you try. It shouldn't be so hard for you two to become friends. And, Eren, the Kirschteins don't exactly have a reputation for being accepting... Perhaps he was trying to protect you from their prejudice?"

" _Protect_  me? Are you fuckin' jokin' me, 'kasa."

"Mm, not at all." She sits next to him, and holds his gaze for a good while. "You'll speak to him again."

"Aye, fuck that."

" _Eren_! You'll speak to him again. Remember what Mum said?"

Eren sighs. "Aye."

"Well then. Talk to him again, _try_  and be less judgemental, and perhaps he might open up to you."

"Huh." Eren's not particularly interested in following that path. "D'you reckon he's a crying drunk?"

"Why'd you ask?"

"What if he tries to cry on me tonight?"

Mikasa cracks her knuckles. "I can efficiently exterminate all rodents, no worries."

"Oh, that's..."

"He doesn't cry. He's funny, then he sleeps."

Eren squawks. "How'd you know?"

"I actually _go_  to parties, sometimes."

"That's... That's interesting."

Mikasa hums. "Will you go straight to Reiner's after your shift?"

"Might as well."

"Alright. I'm going to Ymir's with Annie, but I'll head over in time to meet you. When will you leave?"

"I've got, uh...twenty minutes. Might as well start gettin' ready, right?"

"Right. I'll see you in a few hours. Yeah?"

"Aye. Later, 'kasa."

"See you, Eren." With one last squeeze to his shoulder Mikasa departs, and after a few minutes, he hears the creak of the shower being turned on. Eren doesn't actually need to get ready for his shift, or the party; he'll change his shirt, maybe, into something a little more formal, but other than that he's already got his keys, his wallet, his phone... He's good to go.

He ends up wearing a dark green shirt hanging out his jeans, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and throws on an old leather jacket he got out of Oxfam. It's enough, and within minutes Eren's left the flat and is back on the streets, navigating to Erwin's cafe. He is _not_  thinking about Jean with every footstep, or the way he cried with every heartbeat, or the way his wrist was uncovered with every beat of the song he's playing, but when he gets to work he can't seem to think of anything else.

Thankfully, Erwin says nothing.

\--

When Eren shows up to Reiner's, the curtains are pulled on every other surrounding house and music's blaring from the open upstairs windows. There's a cluster of guys smoking in the front garden, and a few couples out pulling already. Eren trudges in and hands his jacket off to Bertl, who's sweetly manning the cloakroom. Eren didn't bring any beer, but Bertl just smiles that it's okay, and points to the living room, where Reiner's holding fort on a sofa. The music's house, and loud, and comes from an open door than Eren takes a peek inside. It's completely dark, but there's a throng of people inside, pulsing to the beat of the music. Off to the side, he sees drinks though, and navigates to the beer to grab a bottle.

Then, he goes to Reiner. He's booming with laughter, as always, sitting up on the back of the couch like a king. Connie and Sasha, his biggest fans, are sat around him: Connie's slugging back beer, and Sasha's already into the crisps. Ymir is slung across one arm of the couch, cackling now and again and injecting a rude comment when she deems it necessary. Eren glances about for Christa, only to see her speaking across the room with Annie and Mikasa. Around him, people are gathered in clusters, yelling over the music and laughing, swigging vodka and beer and the odd bottle of champers. Reiner's place is good - far out enough to be fairly remote, close enough to get to easily; big enough for there to be plenty of room, small enough that people can congregate in maybe three or four main areas; and Reiner himself is cool enough for all the rich kids to come, but friendly enough that everyone else will come along too. He's pretty well-off himself - the standard at this school, really - but he's locked all the valuables in the unused rooms and cupboards, so the place looks good but there's no threat of any good shit breaking. Reiner holds a lot of parties.

It's about nine, now - it takes a good half hour to get out to Reiner's - and everyone looks pretty tipsy. Taking a swig of beer, Eren makes his way over, nodding at Mikasa as she sees him come in. She just raises her eyebrows and tips her head behind her - following the signal, Eren sees Jean, standing with Marco by the window. His watch is on his right wrist, and he's holding what _looks_  like Coke, which means it's probably half-vodka. He's with a bunch of toffs, posh lads standing about in chinos and waistcoats, and some hot girls in short skirts with designer bags hanging off their shoulders. Half of them are tapping at iPhones, and one girl examines her long nails, and Jean just stands with them, Marco a little awkward but smiling beside him. Eren has no idea what they're saying, but suddenly the five or so of them clink glasses and laugh.

Mikasa's not looking anymore; Eren refocuses on Reiner and steps forward again, gulping down more beer as he strides up.

"Ay, Jaeger!" Reiner calls. "You alright?"

"Aye," Eren says, finally reaching them. "I'm no bad."

"I heard you didn't turn up at Ymir's."

Eren shrugs. "Busy."

"Fair enough. Ready to forget about exams?" Reiner's grin stretches across his whole face.

"Absolutely."

Sasha laughs, and in the distance a door shuts and Bertholdt trots through, easy to spot due to his height. Reiner waves him over, and he slumps against the back cushions, by Reiner's legs, and rejects the drink Ymir shoves at him. She shrugs, downs it in one go, and grins when Reiner cheers. It's enough to attract attention, and Eren ends up on the arm opposite of Ymir, his feet inbetween Sasha and Connie's laps. Christa doddles over, and Mikasa shows up for a quick hello, and the music gets louder and drinks keep getting passed around and people laugh, and shout, and sing off-key to the music. Everyone keeps coming up to Reiner, thanking him and yelling and punching his shoulders, and a couple will stand round and chat for a while.

It's good. It's nice. Eren finds himself drinking a lot more than he planned to, anyway, and it doesn't take long for his speech to start slurring and to start finding everything anyone says hilarious.

Which perhaps explains why his eventual meeting with Jean goes a lot less stressful than he'd previously assumed. Jean must be pissed, too; the glass he has is massive, now, and half-empty, and he keeps giggling and making terrible jokes, then throwing in the odd line that makes everyone gut themselves laughing. He's on his own, as well - Eren eventually spots Marco chatting to Armin, Annie and some others by the telly, and the rest of Jean's little clique are sharing a bottle of something outside, the last Eren checked. Then again, the last Eren checked Jean was outside with them, so maybe they're onto something else. He wouldn't be surprised.

Jean ends up sidling over after an hour or so; he hovers by Eren's side, and swats at Connie's and Sasha's grabbing hands. They make him laugh, though, and his eyes are still shining when he turns to Eren and says, " _Hey_ , Jaeger."

"Aight, Jean?"

"Yeah." Jean fiddles with a loose thread from the sofa arm. "How's it going?"

"No bad." The rest of them are so involved in their own chat that they don't really notice Eren turning a little more towards Jean. "Yoursel'?"

"Yeah," Jean sighs again. "Yeah."

Eren rolls his eyes. "'Yeah'?"

"Yeah. I'm already pretty drunk, so I'm doing okay."

"Aight." Eren shrugs and drinks more; cautiously, Jean raises his own tipple to his lips and sinks another mouthful. "What you got there?"

"Diet Coke," Jean replies, swivelling the glass a little. "An' some Kors."

"Wha's that?"

"Vodka," Jean says straight. "Good stuff."

Eren looks away. They've switched the main lights off, so the only illumination is provided by wall-lamps or standing lights, the fairy lights Reiner's draped about the walls and picture frames and torches off peoples' phones.

"Hey, Eren. You were mad at me today."

"...Aye."

"Are you mad at me now?"

"No so much."

"But you are still mad."

"...Aye."

Jean sighs. "Okay."

"Is 'at a problem fae you?"

"No, it's... Not right now." Jean's shrug is sloppy.

People are congregating near the telly, laughing and cheering before getting into a big circle. Armin and Annie and Mikasa all sit, and after some coercion, Marco does too; Reiner leaps up and claps, marching over there with Bertl in tow; Sasha squeals and grabs Connie as she skips over; and Ymir goes off, Christa following after a quick, "You coming?"

Eren shakes his head and lets his body fall until he hits where Sasha was sitting earlier. He shifts about a bit, til he's spread-legged and slumped against the cushions, and after taking another drink, he realises Jean is still standing in front of him, eyes on the crowd with a frown.

"You gon' play?"

"...No."

"You gon' sit?"

Jean sits.

It isn't difficult to figure out what everyone's doing - playing a game, obviously, Never Have I Ever, and people shriek and guffaw and keep on drinking. Jean makes a few comments every now and then, in a low voice and with such a tone that Eren laughs every time. They enjoy brief conversation; Jean's actually kind of funny when he's drunk, and he keeps lazing into Eren's side. His legs are up on the couch, folded next to him, and it's easy for Jean to lean over and rest his head on Eren's shoulder. The first few times he does it, Eren shakes him off with a frown, but Jean just keeps coming in, whispering in Eren's ear about what people are saying and grinning into Eren's shoulder when Eren laughs.

Eventually, Jean presses against Eren's shoulder and doesn't pull away. His cheeks are a little flushed, and his lips have a faint smile, and his farthest hand loosely hangs onto Eren's arm, and Eren just lets Jean's breaths come slow and even against his shoulder.

He doesn't really mind, after all.

\--

Jean sleeps for maybe an hour. In that time, the circle before Eren grows and shrinks and steadily gets drunker, the banter louder, the music thrumming throughout the house. Through the open door he can see the dark rave room still going strong; as Mikasa passes by him to go there he asks for another drink, and she comes with four beers, passing two to him before returning to the group and giving one to Annie. Her eyes linger on Jean, fast asleep and still pink-cheeked on Eren's shoulder, but she says nothing, only nods, before leaving him.

Marco looks over a few times. He's a sweet wee drunk, and smiles brightly, like actual _sunshine_ , when he sees Jean and Eren together. It's a little disarming, and again, Eren contemplates the likelihood of Marco being some kind of demigod for a while before being distracted by the wetness spreading on his shoulder. Jean's a drooler. _Rank_. That is totally not...completely adorable...

Scowling, Eren turns forward again. Reiner entertains the court as any natural host would; Bertl's crammed against his side, eyes a little weary but smiling nonetheless. Sasha and Connie are involved in some ferocious drinking game with Ymir and Christa - Christa's drinking them all under the table, and Eren's not actually sure if this comes as a surprise or not.

The rest of the year are grouped about this room, the rave room, the hallway between them and outside. There are always people outside, even though it's bloody freezing, having a fag or making secret calls or getting off with one another further off. Ymir hasn't bothered with that; whenever she gets bored, she grabs Christa by the waist and gives her a good smooch or two, and it's enough to make everyone else laugh. They're cute together. They fit.

And Jean, curling up against his side. Eren wonders if they fit, if this is _how_  they fit. Before, they'd always been odd ends and angles that, if shunted together for whatever reason, could never make it work: they always ended up yelling at each other, and punching each other, and getting dragged away from each other. Eren doesn't understand what's changed.

Well, obviously they're _soulmates_  now. But that...can't be all of it. Because Jean is as obnoxious and arrogant as ever, and Eren knows his temper has never been worse than over the exam season. Are they more tolerant? Are they like this only because they're soulmates? Would they naturally fall in love if they weren't? Is that even a thing?

Eren has some more beer. When he lowers the bottle, he realises a girl is standing beside the sofa - one of the girls with Jean, before - just to Eren's left: she's tall, and slim, and wears a tight, short dress that makes her body look excellent. She's clearly very aware of this, and sips her wine when she realises she has Eren's attention. He knows her, but has never really spoken to her before: her name's Hitch, and she's a notorious gossip - and notoriously wealthy. She's got a doubtless gold necklace on, with a few big shiny jewels that are probably worth more than Eren's flat.

"Hey, Eren," she says, and her voice is sultry yet disdainful at the same time.

"Hey, Hitch."

"What're you doing with Jean?"

Eren tries not to raise his eyebrows. "Why d'you care?"

"Just wondering." She smirks a little, but her eyes are narrowed, completely alert. She's a little terrifying. "He's, you know...a _friend_  of mine, and you two never seemed to get on well before."

"Naw," Eren says. "We didn't. But he's drunk, an' tired, a'right? Issat a problem fae you?"

"Not at all!" she trills. "I'm just... _concerned_  about his social standing, is all."

"His standing?" Eren wants to roll his eyes. "The fuck you on 'bout?"

"Oh, you don't know?" God, she is _sly_. "Jean, well... Not very popular, is he?"

"What you talkin' 'bout? Everyone loves 'im." Eren must sound a bit bitter. Hitch laughs, and he knows she can tell.

"Everyone loves his _money_ , Eren, don't you?" He squints at her. "Listen, darling, have you ever spoken to him for five minutes? _So_  awkward, I don't know _how_  his parents must have raised him, can hardly hold a conversation for five minutes without stuttering or being a prick, poor doll. Doesn't trust a soul, either. His only _real_  friend is that Marco boy. Now, _I_  like Jean, and I care about him, but...being seen like this with... _you_  isn't going to go down very well with the rest of us."

"An' who's the rest o' us."

"Oh, you know..." She shrugs, and it embodies elegance. How does that work? "Me, Riko, Marlow and the boys... They're far less tolerant that I am, I'm afraid, won't be very keen on him palling up with you." She pauses. "Sorry about that."

"I completely understand," Eren deadpans. "Why d'you think I give a fuck?"

"You don't have to," she simpers, "but what about Jean? How will _he_  feel if all his lovely rich friends start ignoring him? Not very nice, I'll bet."

Eren struggles for an answer. Eren can barely hear her over the music, and she's already leaned down, arms crossed over the arm of the couch, giving him the perfect view of her chest.

He doesn't look. "So what d'you want me tae dae?" he finally asks.

"Just...have him be a little more civilised, won't you?"

"Why's this important tae  _you_?" he demands before she goes.

Her lips slowly pull up into a smile, and her eyes are dark and glinting with all the things Eren doesn't know. "I like Jean," she says simply. "And I'm worried about him, that's all." She straightens up, and takes another sip. "Have a good night, Eren." She glides away, hips swaying and head held high, waving and nodding every now and then as she makes her way outside, to the rest of them.

"Fuckin' Christ," he mutters to himself when he's gone. Jean's burrowed into his side, and Eren can't help but frown down at him. "The Hitch is a bitch."

He doesn't know if he should follow her advice. Yeah, Jean's annoying and loud and rude as fuck about so many things, but right now he's tolerable - _more_  than tolerable, he's almost _cute_ , and that is so not something he's ever going to admit to anyone, ever.

He doesn't much like Jean, most of the time. But he's Jean's soulmate, and that means they need to start looking out for one another.

Eren wakes him up. He nudges him, carefully, at first, then harder when all he does is mumble into Eren's shoulder and shift closer. His body's warm, pressed right against Eren's, his knees resting against Eren's thigh, but Eren just keeps poking him with his elbow and hissing, " _Jean!_ Jean, c'moan, get  _up_!"

"Mmm?" Jean blinks his eyes open, reaching up to rub his hand across his face as he gets his bearings. "Er'n? Wha's... Oh."

"Aye, _oh_. You've been sleeping for an hour."

"Oh, shit, really?" Jean yawns as he sits back up, sinking immediately into the cushions. "S-sorry, I just get...so sleepy..."

"S'okay," Eren murmurs. "I'm gon' get a drink, you want?"

"No," Jean sighs. "I'm alright."

"Solid. I think your mates are out there. Marco's still playing with 'em, though." He jabs his thumb at the circle, and ignores the way Jean's face briefly contorts before he nods.

"Oh, right. See you, Eren."

"See ya."

Eren pauses before getting up, struck dumb by the way Jean uncurls his legs, the way his back straightens automatically and his chin tilts up a little, even when the right side of his face is damp and he rubs at his eyes. Eren's dealt with Jean for years, he knows his style: harsh, mean, and unforgiving. Always brash and _always_  cocky, Jean tends to sneer and glare and heckle.

This is...different. This is a little like seeing Jean cry, only six or so hours ago. Maybe today is just a _bad day_  for Jean, because right now he's softened by sleep and sweetened by alcohol, and yet still he moves with a certain grace Eren has always lacked.

Jean catches his eyes within seconds: Eren takes a moment to ponder how Jean's eyes are the colour of whisky before he jumps up and strides with as much purpose as he can muster back to the rave room.

He doesn't even know how much he's drank, but this time, he grabs some Coke but can't find the Kors shit Jean mentioned, so he takes a bottle of something blue and pours half of it into his plastic cup. He didn't intend to get absolutely tanked up, but it feels pretty inevitable at this point.

When he goes back to the main room, Jean's gone, and Eren sits by Armin in the circle, which has stopped playing games and is now just talking, and drinking, and laughing, and some girls by the side are posing ridiculously with drinks and taking photos, and they shriek before leaving the room to take photos elsewhere.

"Hey, _Eren_ ," someone croons, and Eren looks up to see a thoroughly sloshed Cassie sitting a few people away from him, leaning forward and grinning. "Wanna hear some goss?"

Eren shrugs. "Sure."

"Didja hear 'bout little Mina?" she mock-whispers. Armin's rolling his eyes and some of the other kids start giggling.

"Naw, I aint heard nothin'," he replies. "Whassup wi' her?"

Cassie eyes are glinting and she wiggles her eyebrows. "Been getting around a bit, hasn't she?" She laughs, and so do the rest of the people listening in, except Armin.

"Why?"

"Oh, you don't know?" Cassie gasps, loudly, and waves her fingers in front of her mouth. "It was her birthday over exam leave, but..." She beckons Eren in, and he leans forward, unable to hide his interest. "...turns out she didn't get a name!" She widens her eyes, waits expectantly for his reaction, and his eyebrows shoot up.

"Aw, shit!" he says. "Rough as hell."

"Yeah! I've seen her with Daz, an' Mylius, an' Thomas... Like, what does she think she's playin' at, y'know? Just 'cause she doesn't have a soulmate doesn't mean they won't!"

"I feel sorry fae her, t' be honest..."

" _Why?_  There's obviously a reason tha' she doesn't have a soulmate."

"How d'you ken that, huh?"

"Well, what else could it be?"

"Maybe she just doesnae need a soulmate! Not everyone falls in love, y'ken!"

"Eren," Armin murmurs, grabbing his arm and pulling it down to Eren's side. "Simmer down."

"Oi, Arms, you hear her?"

"What you think you're saying, huh, Eren?" Cassie snipes. "Everyone knew Mina was a slag, anyway! She probably doesn't have a soulmate 'cause she's such a _slut_."

"Y' don' ken that, though!" Eren exclaims. "Mina's a sweetheart, but tha' doesnae mean she needs a soulmate!" In a brief flash of inspiration, Eren adds, "And, 'sides, the whole soulmates thing is such a joke, anyway!"

"What the fuck d'ya mean?"

"Well, it's fuckin' ridiculous!" Eren shoots off, ignoring the way Armin pulls at his shirt. "You turn seventeen an' you get a name and tha' person's s'posed to fall in love wi' you fae ever? It's bull-fuckin'-shit, Cassie, soulmates don' make sense, you cannae just _fall_  in love wi' someone!"

"And how'd you know that?" she demands. "Who's your soulmate, huh? Are you only sticking up for Mina because _you_  didn't get one? Soulmates have been around for _years_  an' it works well enough for the rest of us! Christ, Eren, what's your _problem_?!"

"My problem?" Eren roars. "Aye, soulmates abso-fuckin'-lutely make sense, Cassie! Why else would me dad walk out on us when I wis eleven years old, huh? Aye, soulmates worked _real well_  fae my family!"

Cassie narrows her eyes at him and tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Yeah, Eren, that was _just_  you - the rest of us are fine. If we wanted to hear about your fucking family problems we'd have _asked_." She turns away, done with the conversation, and the onlookers all smirk and whisper and look away when Eren glares at them.

"Christ, Eren," Armin sighs, but doesn't try to stop Eren as he gets up and storms towards the sliding doors that lead outside.

He's made it two steps into the freezing air when he realises he's left his drink; it would hurt his pride too much to go back for it, and he looks around for someone he can grab something off: he spots a couple pulling against the wall a little further down, and a huddle of people on the grass illuminated by a dozen little flares that light up the smoke coming off them, and then he sees Jean. Jean is with Hitch, the bitch, and she only raises her eyebrows when she sees Eren. Jean elongates his neck as he turns round to look, and something quirks in his brow before he coolly turns back to the girl and keeps talking.

Thankfully, Mikasa appears after two seconds

"You left your drink," she says, and hands it over. He grabs it and takes a long gulp, sighing when he lets it down. "What was that about, Eren?"

"Pissed me off," he mutters.

"Eren, come on."

He shrugs jerkily. "She was talkin' shit 'bout a nice girl, I didnae wanna hear it."

"And all that about soulmates being screwed up?"

"You cannae deny it."

"No." She sips her drink and leans against the wall. "But you were still wrong."

"How'd you ken?"

"I actually _have_  a soulmate, Eren, and I love her."

He raises his eyebrow. "Aye? You told her?"

"Yes."

"And she...?"

"Yes."

He slumps against the wall and takes another long drink. "This whole shit wi' Jean is fuckin' me up," he admits.

"I can see that."

"I dunno whit tae dae wi' him. We don'- we don' _fit_ , 'kasa, no' like you an' Annie."

"Stuff like this takes _time_ , Eren. It certainly won't be helped by you letting off at some gossipy girl at a party."

"...I ken."

"Do you?"

Eren sighs. "Sorry, 'kasa."

"S'alright, Eren. Enjoy yourself, yeah?" Mikasa doesn't smile, but her eyes are earnest and she shuffles a little closer to him.

"What time's it?"

Mikasa checks her watch: "Barely one a.m. How long do you think you'll stick around?"

"Dunno. Might stay around all night."

She nods. "I'm leaving at about three with Annie. Morning shift. When's yours?"

"I'm on at midday, I'll be fine."

They stand against the wall, drinking and observing, for a good while. It's pitch dark bar the smokers and a couple of phone lights, and outside everyone speaks in whispers, the bass of the music from inside thrumming through the ground. It's freezing, yes, but it sort of balances out how hot Eren actually feels - heat runs in a current just beneath his skin, but he's cooling off, gradually, and it clears his mind somewhat.

"Hey, 'kasa?"

"Yes?"

"How'd you an' Annie get together proper?"

Mikasa slides her eyes to his and sighs. As she speaks, though, he spots the way her lips upturn, just so: "We became _friends_ , Eren, it progressed naturally."

"What does that even _mean_ , 'kasa?"

"Well, we... We talked, and we started going out places, like the gym and the cinema and just..." Mikasa bites her lips, oddly out of her depth for once She drinks some more beer, then continues uncertainly, "I just...started seeing things in her I liked. Like, uh, her nose, and how she prefers bubble baths, and how she acts like she's bored with things she cares about... Well, I... I started being attracted to her first, like I think her body is..." Mikasa nods, and Eren grins at how open she's being about something she'd normally hold so privately.

"A wonderland?"

She rolls her eyes. "Sure. After that, I realised how much I liked who she was, and so...we just grew closer. I guess." Her eyebrows are drawn together, and she hides behind her bottle when she drinks. "Does that...help?"

Eren sighs. "It makes sense," he admits. "I mean, aye, Jean's well fit, but he's _so_... Ev'rytime I think he's a'right, he just...acts like a bloody _prick_ , I cannae stand it."

"...Maybe it'll just take longer?"

"Aye, _maybe_. An' then he's so weird about his _parents_ , willnae tell 'em _shit_. What the fuck is wrong wi' 'im?"

Mikasa's eyes are fixed on the flickering flames in the garden. When she speaks, her tone is even and quiet, almost cautionary: "Eren. You remember how, in P7, when puberty started kicking in, you kept making fun of Jean's weight?"

Eren grimaces. He was _not_  a nice kid. "Aye."

"I remember it very clearly, because it was just after I...came to live with you, and I'd met Mum and I thought she was wonderful, and I assumed all Western parents were like her... So, Jean's parents came in one day, remember? We were sitting there for hours, waiting for them. Do you remember how they acted?"

Eren squints. It was so long ago, but... "Aye. A li'l."

"What did they do, Eren?"

God, he is not drunk enough for this.

"They, uh.. Boody hell, they..told him tae no cry. An', uh..." He stops, trying to grasp at the murky memory.

"They told him to grow up and deal with it, remember? Right in front of the teacher. And they didn't say a word to us. Isn't that strange? I thought it was so strange, but I just accepted it..."

"Aye. I guess so... Not a word? Even when I made 'im cry?"

Mikasa shakes her head.

"Aye, well...maybe they jus'... I mean, he was _eleven_. You cannae blame 'em." He can feel her gaze as he drinks. "'Sides, doesnae make sense. Spoiled bloody rotten, he is, his parents obviously _adore_  'im."

"Oh, _Eren_ -"

"Ay! Jaeger! Ackerman! The rest o' you tollies who wanna good time!" Reiner's voice rings through the garden. "You wanna get some karaoke started in 'ere or what?!"

Some people laugh, others whistle. A few get up and stagger in, and Eren lets himself follow the tide.

By the time Reiner's under way with a solo of _We Are the Champions_  Eren's forgot Mikasa's little tale.

It lingers, though.

\--

He doesn't see Mikasa or Jean for the rest of the party. Annie's lingering in the back with Bertl for a while, but even she disappears after some time. Instead Eren finds himself getting up for _500 Miles_  and pulling Armin to dance in the rave room. He drinks too much of the blue stuff and gets dizzy, but he keeps going, roaming through the various rooms and talking with all the little groups as he wanders. He catches up wth Marco, Thing 1, and Thing 2 for a while, ignoring the way Marco shoots glances at Eren's arm. Ymir and Christa dance with him, giggling and jeering with and at him, and he ends up doing some weird _Fight For This Love_  duet with Reiner in the approximate hour of four a.m..

He doesn't go outside again. He'll say it was because it was freezing, even though he's burning with alcohol, and no one will question him.

Luckily, Jean doesn't come back in. A good thing, too, because Eren gets very complimentary when he's drunk - he tells Armin he has pretty hair maybe five times in two hours - and seeing Jean in his shiny tight jeans and his untucked shirt, with his cuffs rolled up and the first few buttons undone, and then the fucking waistcoat, shiny black and nipped around his waist... There are _many_  things Eren would've said, and he would've regretted them _all._

He bails out at six, when Armin starts speaking in tongues, and before Reiner can recruit them for clean-up. He thinks Armin might be speaking Italian the entire time - he keeps going, " _Bella, si_ , bella," - but he knows shit-all about languages and just lets him.

The trains have started by the time they get to the station, thank God, but Eren gets off early to get Armin to his door in one piece. Armin thanks him with a kiss on each cheek and a ," _Grazie, bella_ ," before unlocking his door with ease, and so Eren ends up walking to Shinganshina. It's still pretty dodgy even at almost seven on a Sunday morning, and he takes some shortcuts freshly coveredd in glass and some blood, but he makes it home alright and slumps into bed before eight.

He ends up dreaming of primary seven, and when Eren awakens, stomach churning and head dizzy, he feels _ashamed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmmm. k so idk when the next chap'll be in, school is suddenly v cray (i thought 6th yr was chill/?? but suddenly 2 dissertations and a ton of essays?? wtf. wtf) and i'm going away for the week for a year abroad selection thing, also i just got dragon age 2 and i'm playing it like crazy (carver JUST died today in the deep roads, i am legitimately in shock; also fenris love me pls) so like.... also i have like 4 other erejean au things i want to do...and one canon...basically i have shorter fics i can finish soon hopefully <3 also i need to solidify the plot for this lmao.
> 
> anyway. i'm trash, and tired, and i don't have a beta like i haven't mentioned this but this is all unbeta-ed which it's why it's v akin to trash. if u have any suggestions/services to offer, idk, just be like 'hey trash i can make ur trash slightly less trashy' it'll be great i swear <33

**Author's Note:**

> and wasn't that interesting. pls feel free to hit me up at tyrellis or mlp-michaeljones on tumblr, to chat about erejean (bc i can never get enough tbh) or abt this/any fic!! <3


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